


The Uncertainty of Breath

by BlackSilkenRose



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, M/M, dubcon, i'm sorry guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-04-03 04:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 47,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4087552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackSilkenRose/pseuds/BlackSilkenRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suddenly Killua was very aware of his surroundings. So very aware of the lamenting cries coming from down the hall, of the doctor, looking between himself and the dark haired boy with an emotionless gaze, mouth stained with blood. It was all too real.</p>
<p>Kurapika: a moment from death. Leorio: faced with the possibility of a recurring nightmare. Gon: always just seconds too late. And Killua: how he sometimes wished he had just stayed locked away, unaware of the world and of the pain beyond what his own hands could cause. Eventual Leopika and Kirugon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, after a lot of requests for more KiruGon, here we are! This one should be longer than the last, but it will also be darker (you have been warned). Apparently I write angsty Leopikas, so have fun guys (I swear, I love you. But they have to suffer a little).
> 
> As always, nice comments are appreciated.

_For Kurapika._

The words echoed in his head a thousand times over, like a whisper in a cavern so vast the end could not be seen. They held no emotion, no depth, simply were the voicings of a decision made and carried through. Of all the people who could have been there, he doubted that anyone had expected it to be him, but that only made his actions more important.

After all, if anyone understood suffering like Kurapika’s, it was Killua.

He was doing his best not to be bothered by the sounds and smells that flooded his senses, to not be brought back to a place in his mind where he knew he would be affected. The man standing closest to him could see the effort in every line on the young man; he was stone. His eyes did not blink, his breathing was barely noticeable, and all of the color in his face had long ago drained away. The man standing by could not help but to stare, feeling his stomach churn as he took in how similarly he looked to the broken body lying in the bed between them.

No more than a few words had been spoken between them in days; it seemed impossible to converse under the circumstances, let alone with expectations of a horrible fate looming over their heads. They had never been talkative companions either way; there had always been some sort of buffer between their interactions, always at least three of them, and long ago memories of four. The tension between them was a side effect of this reminder, the reality of the situation weighing on both pairs of shoulders in each of the lengthy silences. It wasn’t as if they had nothing to talk about. They simply knew everything the other would have to say, and saved themselves the trouble.

They were terribly worried about each other, but looking from the outside in it was nearly impossible to tell. There had been whispers from the hall, concerns expressed by strangers over the tall man and the lithe teen, over how they would react when the news that was inevitable was finally delivered. No one dared approach them, though. They were in too much pain to have communicated, anyway.

Despite this, neither of them had left. It had been days of nonresponse, days of nothing but staring at white walls, of sleeping in hard backed chairs and eating soft foods and all possible maddeningly trite actions and nothing had happened. Yet, still they stayed, eyes wide and trained on either the patch of recognizable yellow from under the innumerable bandages or the stains on the walls. As much as the two were reminded of the last time they lay in wait, they knew this was different.

They knew that there was no coming back from this without consequences.

How the blond had even gotten to the godforsaken city was beyond them; last either of them had heard he was stalking around Yorkshin on a job. That was halfway around the world, but several weeks back, and one way or another fate had been cruel enough to stick him here of all places to face off with the one opponent that had been on his trails for years: death. This time, it seemed as if the battle was not to be won again.

The city was a legend among Hunters and even those lay people who had heard the stories of treasure from the old world. It was hidden to most of the world, not by any mystical means, but simply because it was difficult to get to. The surrounding mountains were treacherous, making Kukuroo look like a pleasant hill comparatively. After the mountains came the vast forests, which were strange tropical woodlands unlike anything they had trekked through before. The easiest way to travel was by boat, as the trees were buried in swamps that held species unknown to most men, and probably for the better. Though he was no Wild Beast Hunter, Killua was schooled in recognizing poisons, even on other living beings. He had seen more deadly fish and amphibians on the trip in than he had even known existed, and that wasn’t even counting the plant life. The journey had taken three days, though he knew it should have taken him longer. His worry, and the other’s, were enough to speed him along to his destination. Even so, he hadn’t used his Kanmuru, hoping that his path would be less conspicuous.

He would have been disappointed in his surroundings when he arrived if he had not been so preoccupied. The city was always dark, for some reason, as if light could not reach such a place. The air was thick with pollution, though the hand of technology did not extend past the most basic of amenities. Most of the buildings that lined the streets were made from some sort of natural clay molded over rusted metal pipes, seeming to add to the stench of rot that permeated the air. It didn’t help that there was always a layer of fog levitating just off of the ground, thick and dark, like the deadly rivers around the settlement. The grime of the city had stained his pants and shoes within the first minutes of his arrival, as if marking his passing. He wondered if the color would ever wash out, but knew that the clothes would be discarded as soon as he was allowed to escape. He wouldn’t be able to get the essence of death off of them anyway, not with the nondescript bodies that were found piled at the outskirts of town, where the building they resided in was located. He couldn’t blame the indigenous people: had he lived here he would have kept the sick as far from the rest of the population as possible too. Then again, he couldn’t imagine why anyone would seek such a life out. Clearly, Kurapika had.

He had asked, but no one seemed to know how he had gotten into his condition, just that it could not have been good. It was through a halfway broken connection, amplified with some sort of newfangled device the doctor had picked up during his travels that Killua had even received the call for him to come – he could only imagine what the other had gone to in order to have gotten there when he did. All they had been told, translated brokenly by an old explorer who had found his way into the city but never managed to get back out, was that the blond had been found moments before his breath was stolen from him, a single word on his lips.

Leorio.

They had, of course, frisked him for any sign of what that meant when he was admitted. It had been the same old man, the only one literate in the common language of the outside world, to find the name among an excruciatingly short list on the young man’s mobile device. How they had gotten ahold of him was still a mystery to the former assassin, but they had, and Leorio had been there from that day onward. Since his arrival, they had done nothing but wait, trapped in the small room, for any hinting of hope.

Killua had grown so tired of living for hope. This, surely, was a lost cause. Kurapika had lived through such agony, a life full of nothing but torment and rage, but this was irreparable. His ribs had shattered in multiple places, puncturing a lung in the process. One of his kneecaps had been crushed to the point that walking was an unlikely future for him, but it was the least of their worries. There was so much internal damage, between the bleeding and the fractured limbs, that neither man was sure if there was enough of him left to save. Looking at him, it was impossible to tell that the young Kurta was the same person they had grown close to so many years ago.

The medical technology of local people lacked much to be desired, and with the language barrier it was difficult to even figure out what they thought was most important to treat, let alone how they had planned on going about it. Killua could tell by looking at him that Leorio found it traumatizing: he had arrived just in time to save the younger one from an unnecessary amputation. He had worked on him for the entire first night, emptying the contents of his briefcase with his efforts before turning to pure Nen techniques to try to pull him out of it. He still wasn’t as skilled as the others, as he didn’t rely on Nen to save himself on a daily basis, but his specialization came in handy at times like this.

It was a lucky happenstance that Kurapika was breathing on his own; from what the old man had gossiped Killua figured that he had stopped for a time while Leorio was trying to stitch him back together. It was no wonder that Leorio had his eyes trained on him like a hawk, now sitting close enough to the bed that he could see the slightest change in the rising and falling of the other’s bandaged chest. Killua watched as the bags under his eyes darkened as each day passed, the most recent member of their gang to become a Hunter using his Nen quietly, secretly to try and fix the other. They both knew how hopeless a cause it really was, Killua staying silent as he watched the life drained from the other two. He’d have tried to help, tried to seek out an alternative had he not known that there was none, had he not been through it all before.

He knew that Leorio had made the call.

He hadn’t told him, but Killua knew beyond reasonable doubt. He supposed that was why Leorio had been so shocked that he had come, that and the fact that Killua wasn’t’ exactly the easiest person to get ahold of. Even now that the threats from his family had died out, he lived his life like he was on the run, never staying in one place for too long and keeping a list of aliases as long as a phonebook. In a way, he still was running, but not from the Zoldyck clan. That’s why, every few minutes or so, Leorio’s eyes would shoot past to him, worried. He had definitely made the call.

The question was whether or not he was coming, whether he’d even make it in time. Part of the white haired boy knew that if the Kurta died before the other made it to the city limits that he’d be gone before having to see him. The rest of him… well he wasn’t about to prepare for that eventuality. He’d rather just not think or feel anything at all.

There wasn’t any time to prepare anyway, in a moment the room went from still to bristling, the energy in the air becoming entirely too volatile. Silence changed to a flood of beeps and screams from the archaic machinery in the room, burning the boy’s ears. His eyes dilated, realization filling them as he took in the body of the blond, seizing and shaking. Leorio was on him in a moment, hands on his arms as he tried to still him, struggling at the same time to reach for his briefcase. Killua only stared, his body going numb, before the doctor’s pleas sounded in his ears.

In a second he was moving, taking the other’s position as he pinned the gargling blond to the bed. The one eye that was not bandaged had rolled back in its socket, lids fluttering wildly as he seized, the uninjured leg kicking as his back arched unnaturally. Killua felt sickness rise to his throat as he held him, trying desperately not to go on the defensive lest he hurt him. The smell of death filled his nostrils, shocking his system as the body under him stilled all too suddenly. There was a violent push to his shoulder, and Leorio was back, tossing a syringe off to the side and folding his hands over the other’s chest. Killua stepped back to give him room to work, watching morbidly as the doctor pushed rhythmically against the other’s chest.

Blood started to bubble from the Kurta’s mouth in the form of foam, but Leorio was wiping it away to press his mouth against the other’s, pushing fresh air into the one working lung. His hand flailed, and with some primal semblance of understanding Killua took over the artificial pumping of his heart. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that the city’s doctors had crowded the doorway, hands over their faces as they watched, whispering prayers and mantras instead of doing anything that could be seen as useful. For the first time in so very, very long, Killua found himself terrified.

And then, without warning, it was over. The blaring of the machines quieted, the trembling beneath him stopped, and hands closed over his to keep him from moving any more. He looked at the other, eyes wide and fearful, to find him smoothing back the blond’s hair. Wiping the blood from his mouth, he turned to the younger one, eyes dull, but racing.

There was a heartbeat under his palms.

Killua stepped back shakily, his legs barely holding him up as he looked, unsure of what he was seeing, to find that the blond was breathing. It was an uncertain sort of breath, one that was moments from being extinguished, but it was there. Everything seemed to slow down, the world ceased its turning. Leorio had slid down onto his knees, crumpling over halfway onto the body that he had just breathe life into. Without it really registering, he watched the older man begin to sob, clutching at the dark blankets around his fallen friend.

It was out of pure instinct that Killua turned his head, looking toward the door. It didn’t matter, not in that moment. He was much too numb.

There was Gon, staring dumbly at him, his eyes wide and full of emotion. Killua looked at him but didn’t see, didn’t understand or care. All there was, all that mattered, was the heartbeat that he felt under his fingertips just moments before.

“Killua…”

And then he was running, moving past the white haired boy toward the Kurta to stand over the bed. But the moment had broken, the glass between himself and the real world had shattered, and suddenly Killua was very aware of his surroundings. So very aware of the lamenting cries coming from down the hall, of the doctor, looking between himself and the dark haired boy with an emotionless gaze, his mouth stained with blood, of the fact that Gon was in fact here, a breath away from him.

He was gone within a second, slipping through the door that had held the other’s presence, and disappearing into the nightly dark. He’d rather surround himself with natural brought death than spend another second in that room anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

He'd come back.

Of course he had. Not even his own damage could have kept him from the bedside of the blond, especially now. They had taken on shifts, forcing the doctor to get rest in the form of a handful of minutes sleep between watches, promising to wake him if anything happened in the meantime. It also gave him an excuse to avoid the other- he’d take a shift after the dark haired boy, extending Leorio’s sleep and effectively avoiding the object of his distaste.

In fairness, he had kept himself away for as long as he felt he could before returning, waiting until the relative dawn of the next day before slinking back into the city’s limits. He was surprised at how cold he felt, how detached from the world he was in while making his way toward the so-called hospital. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thanked the sickness that had dictated his parents, knowing full well that this was what they had trained him for: staring down death and danger with hard unfeeling. Today was just another day, and he’d live through it like he had lived through the first twelve years of his life.

He ran into Gon in a random hallway of the medical facility, neither where he expected him nor where he expected him not to be. It was no more than happenstance, but that served him just as well. The older teen had gone to fetch the doctor a cup of something that resembled coffee, but stopped dead in his tracks when he rounded the corner to find the ex-assassin with his back against a wall.

“When we’re in there,” he spoke with a voice that did not sound like his, but it had caught Gon’s attention either way, “with Leorio and Kurapika, we’ll get along. We’ll act like the strangers we are.” Gon looked as if he was about to say something, but the other’s eyes narrowed, not looking at anything in particular, and the words died on his tongue. “When we’re alone, you are not to speak to me. You are not to touch me. Once Kurapika is either well or dead, you’ll see no more of me.”

He’d turned on his heel after that, stalking off in the direction he had come, leaving the once friend where he stood. Not bothering to knock once he had found his way back through the maze of useless physicians, Killua entered the blond’s room, his eyes falling upon a familiar sight. The doctor was exactly where he had left him the day before, curled up in a messy pile at the Kurta’s side, eyes dark and heavy. He’d been crying, the teen was sure of it from the red around his eyes that had not been there before. A part of him hurt to see it, not only because he knew someone as compassionate as Leorio should never be in pain, but also because he had felt more comfortable with his tears when Killua had left. While he had been with Gon.

Killua took his place on the other side of the bed, slumping down into the chair that had held his weight for the past number of days. Leorio’s gaze only flicked up to him for a moment, then settled back to watching the other breathe. His aura was quiet: no doubt he had been up all night trying to make sure that Kurapika didn’t relapse into another spasmodic episode. Killua couldn’t help but stare at the man, how small he seemed, how his whole body rebelled against consciousness. His fingers twitched, knowing that time would be running short.

“Old man.” This time his voice did crack, the words lacking the chiding that they usually had. Leorio tilted his head in response, a knowing gesture, but didn’t shift his gaze. “We need to talk.”

He received no reply, watching as one of Leorio’s hands curled around the Kurta’s, most likely without his knowledge. He had done that for Gon too, when he had been… Killua pushed the thoughts aside. His throat felt dry.

“If his suffering…” He was shaking, he didn’t know when he had started shaking. This was wrong. He was supposed to be stone.

“…becomes too great, I want you to…” There was a stinging at his eyes. He was a cold blooded killer. This agony was not his too feel.

“I want you to let me –” A hand on his shoulder stopped his speech. He looked up to find Leorio there, looking down at him with sad eyes. How he had even gotten there without him noticing was the least of his concerns, the shaking was growing worse with the initiation of touch. He had expected Leorio to scream, to shout at him one of his speeches about pulling through, about strength and the like, but the other only squeezed his shoulder, speaking all too gently, as if to a child.

“There is no suffering too great for Kurapika.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the doctor’s tone, or the implication of his words, or if he had been crying all along, but the sudden awareness of tears on his cheeks was too much for the youngest one. His mouth opened only to close without saying anything, hands stretching out but finding nothing to hold on to. He couldn’t remember being this lost since…

“Sit with him.” It was a soft command, the doctor pushing gently at his back, toward the bed. “It helps.” He did not specify which of them it would aid, though.

Killua stood with great difficulty, suddenly finding it impossible to look toward the patch of gold that stuck up from the top of the other’s head. His eyes clenched shut, as if it would stop everything, the image of his friend fallen, the tears that wanted to make a fool of him, but it all remained. There was another light push at his back, and he let himself see again. With a fumbling step forward, he moved to the edge of the bed, sitting down where the other’s body didn’t reside take him in completely.

It was a wretched sight, the dark stains under gauze that was in need of changing, the way the other was breathing, but only just barely, as if at any moment his life could be snuffed out. The younger by was hyper aware of his fragility, and the mere notion of it pushed him over the edge.

He was sobbing now, eyes heavy with falling tears, his body having given upon trying to stay still. The doctor watched quietly as the boy keeled over, unable to hold himself up in his grief as he wept, the sounds of his anguish filling the small room. Killua let himself fall to his side, curling up against the young blond’s shoulder, his entire body seeming to revert to a childlike state in doing so. One of his hands reached out for the Kurta’s, pulling it to his chest as he quaked, whispering small, unintelligible pleas to return into his ear.

If anything could have broken Leorio’s heart, it was this.

It was a moment, too distracted by his younger friend’s anguish, before he noticed the other presence in the doorway. Gon had returned, eyes wide and pained, just in time for the scene in front of them. He didn’t bother looking at the doctor, moving quickly, arms outstretched to help, to hold, to do something. He was intercepted immediately, Leorio grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him into the hallway.

“You can’t, Gon,” was all he said, shaking his head wearily as he made his way back inside. Without meeting the boy’s eyes, Leorio closed the door.

Gon just stood there, listening as the sounds inside grew steadier, his heart clenching at each of the rhythmic sobs that pierced it. He pressed his forehead against the old wood of the door, his free hand clenching at his side. The cup in the other had long since gone cold.

It was a few minutes before the noises died down, the energy in the room slowly fading into an even current. Gon’s whole body relaxed a little; he hadn’t even noticed how tense he had gotten. There was a shuffling, and then the door was being pulled out from under his nose, the teen stumbling as it did. Leorio would have grinned if it had been any other day, but today he only waited, face blank, for the other to move out of his way. Gon was shocked when he stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. It was the first time he had left the room since he’d arrived.

The doctor nudged the teen’s elbow with his, motioning that they walk w few feet before he sunk down against the wall, leaning back with an exhausted huff. Gon followed suit, his eyes caught between his older friend and the door, unsure which was more pertinent to keep watch over. Leorio didn’t seem too concerned, so he settled his gaze on him.

The doctor was looking at him with an expression both familiar and foreign; the face he made when he was about to explain something that he wasn’t sure Gon would grasp, or that he knew he shouldn’t be saying. It was different, though; this time there was something underneath the wrinkles of his brow. The raven haired teen couldn’t tell if it was anger, frustration, or something else entirely. Either way, he kept his mouth shut, knowing that it was time to listen.

“He’s asleep.” Gon blinked, taking a moment to realize that he meant Killua. He cast his eyes down, unsure of how to feel. “We’ve got a few minutes. He’ll feel it if anything happens.”

Leorio fell quiet for a moment, not looking at the boy who refused to meet his eyes anyway. It had been a long time since they had seen each other, the circumstances of that situation hanging unpleasantly in the air. It had been the first time they’d really fought over anything, though it had been less dire. Still, the words from a year ago echoed in their heads, the truth of what each of them had said becoming clearer as they sat together.  
It was neither the time, nor the place, but there wasn’t much else to do. At least something could be fixed, maybe.

“He feels more than most people, you know.” Gon didn’t look up at this, focusing on the curve of his shoes. “So does Kurapika. They’ve got a special connection, but I guess we’ve always taken that for granted, since it’s easy to miss.” His voice dropped somewhat and he fumbled for something in his inside pocket, a distraction for his hands. “We’ve taken _him_ for granted.”

A year ago Gon would have stood, would have stated otherwise defiantly and confidently, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Even if he believed otherwise, it was clear to him that he had missed at least _something_. The doctor noted his silence, and took it as permission to continue.

“This isn’t easy on any of us, but Killua will suffer more intensely than we will. He’ll take longer to heal. So, Gon, if you’ve ever cared about him the way you’ve claimed to, you’ll let him grieve without you.” This time Gon did look up, but it was not in anger. His eyes were dark and watery, hands clutched on the hem of his shorts, a pain so deep that for a moment Leorio wished he hadn’t said anything lacing his words as he finally spoke.

“But I just don’t want to see Killua hurt!” he cried, tears threatening to spill over. Leorio’s face softened for a moment, but his words still held conviction.

“I know, but he’s going to hurt either way. Whether you think so or not, you gave up the right to comfort him. It’ll only make things worse if you try.” He wanted to argue. He wanted to storm off, throw the door between him and his best friend open and collect him in his arms. He wanted to wipe the tears from his eyes as Kurapika woke, because he _would_ wake up, because he _had to_ wake up- 

But there was Leorio, so clearly affected by everything, so horribly attached to the Kurta giving him a lesson in leaving Killua be. Even in the haze of confused inadequacy and loss, Gon could recognize that.

He didn’t follow when Leorio finally stood, his body rejecting the action with its strained creaking, and made his way back inside. When the door shut behind him, Gon’s head fell to his knees, the first of many tears quietly finding their way down his cheeks. He shook, and for the first time in so very long he felt terribly alone.

It began to sink in that it was more than one of his friends he was losing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that none of this is beta read (still don't have a beta reader), so if there are mistakes please forgive me.
> 
> I love people who add nice comments, by the way. And don't forget to subscribe for updates/new chapters!


	3. Chapter 3

He dreamt of Kurapika’s smile every time he closed his eyes.

He always knew it was a dream. It had to be, with the way the blond would look at him with a light in his eyes and grin like he had just been handed the key to happiness itself. It wasn’t just any smile: this was a smile he had only seen once or twice before, a smile that was part memory, part wish.

He woke up infinitely sadder when he had this dream.

Sleep was so rare, though, that he couldn’t close his eyes without the image burning itself into his mind. It was only made worse with their opening, as reality forced its harsh reminder of where they stood with each slow blink. Closed, his eyes saw a past just as unlikely as his open eyes saw the possibility of a future.

He didn’t know where the boys had gone; he supposed that if they were together he’d have heard the world imploding. There was no doubt in his mind that they needed a break from the dingy room, having been cooped up within those four walls for far too long. There was a sense of peace, even, in their absence. Once again, just him and Kurapika; it was as natural as anything in the world.

Except that it wasn’t. Not like this.

His eyes were fighting against the urge to close, a failing battle. It didn’t help that his head was resting on his arm, propped up on the bed next to the Kurta’s. He’d pulled his chair up to the edge of it days ago; the mattress would no doubt have a permanent dent where he leaned against it. The other’s breath was steady at least. A moment’s rest could only give him more energy to devote to healing. Grimly, he wondered if it was doing any good. He had staked his life to become a Hunter, to become a doctor, but what good was that if he couldn’t heal the people he cared about.

Vaguely, on the edge of consciousness, he tried to remember if his grief over Pietro had been this great.

He was out within a second, sleep opening him to a burst of light. It was fuzzy in the middle, the rays converging on the all too familiar image. The doctor let it come, waited patiently as it cleared for the face that caused his heart to ache like nothing else. He was younger, in this memory, a look of shock painting his face before it softened. The smile grew out of that, all warmth and affection, eyes crinkling as it did. The light may have been bright, but nothing was more blinding than Kurapika’s smile. The dream changed, continuing past its usual threshold as the blond let out a bubbling laugh, the sound making the doctor’s ears ring.

“Leorio.”

He was awake in an instant, his senses registering it before his mind could make a distinction between reality and the dream. For a second, he could do nothing but stay completely still, as if he feared movement would negate what he thought he heard. His brain caught up a moment later and he jumped up, reaching out to cup the other’s cheek in his hand. The blond’s one visible eye was still closed, but he dared to hope anyhow.

“Kurapika,” the way he said his name was nothing short of desperate, his heart speeding up at the thought of a reaction from the young man. “Are you with me? Say something, Kurapika!”

Words didn’t follow, the even rise and fall of the blond’s chest punctuating the quiet of the room. It took everything the doctor had not to shake him, to try and physically snap him out of his state, only the fear of harming him further kept him from actually doing it. His thumb smoothed over the other’s cheek, wiping away the grime that had collected there. No, if he had been awake the doctor would have never been allowed to touch him so freely. It was one of the rules, one that was followed as strictly as anything.

The taller man’s heart sunk at his nonresponse, but he kept his eyes trained on the other’s face. Even in sleep, or whatever his state could be called, there was no peace to be found there. It was a wonder how the stress he’d put himself under hadn’t aged him in the passing years, only just beginning to look his age while others’ hair would have whitened from all they’d seen. The doctor ran his hand through the hair wasn’t wrapped against his skull, taking in its softness. Such a beautiful life, it wasn’t right to take it from him. For the thousandth time in days that seemed never end, tears fell from the man’s eyes, staining the other’s face.

He almost missed it when he flinched.

The waterworks halted, the doctor blinking rapidly as the blond’s cheek twitched. His small nose scrunched, forehead lines creasing. His eye rolled under its lid, fluttering.

“Leorio.”

His voice was so cracked and quiet, foreign sounding in its lack of use. His lips barely parted for the word, but his face was expressive, his disturbance clear. The doctor stared down at him, breath halted. He was dreaming. Kurapika was dreaming, and he was dreaming of him.

The doctor’s hands shot out again, cradling the other’s head gently as the tears began again, flowing freer than they had before. He was on the bed now, his thigh pressed against the other’s arm, body curled over him. He pressed his forehead against the blond’s, reveling with a sob as the motion earned him a small groan. Such small things, such infinitesimal, every day, taken for granted movements, they were proof of life. He couldn’t help but shudder to think that this was what had been missing, what had almost been entirely snuffed out. Kurapika’s head turned toward his slightly, as if trying to find something he could not see, and Leorio let out a choking laugh, nuzzling into the gesture, as happy as he could ever imagine being.

With the light of hope anew, he cried harder than he ever had in his life.

~°~ 

There was blood on the moon, a bad omen to most. For Killua, it was the outline of Kurapika’s eyes, dark and angry and violent. Alive.

Killua felt the change in the air from where he was on the other side of town, hiding from amber eyes that seemed keen on seeking him out even after his warning. He was having none of it; the ex-assassin would have credited him on his persistence had the circumstances been different. Or maybe he wouldn’t have. Even in the right state of mind, Gon was not someone he felt like being flexible for; he had done plenty of that back when they were together. Some things were beyond forgiveness.

Some things were worth letting go of.

He had snapped, just a little, when Gon had grabbed his hand. It was a reflex, he was sure, though they had been apart for so long that he wondered if it could really be called such. The raven haired one had tried to force another confrontation: a conversation about where they stood, about being together again, all four of them when Kurapika woke up, and ended it with the clasping of his hand. It was pure _reflex_ , Killua justified, when he had shocked the older one- just enough to sting but not enough to do any damage. Gon had drawn back at that, his eyes strange, and given him the opportunity to disappear. Now he wished he hadn’t quite gone so far.

He was back at the medical facility in a flash, despite the initial distance, his legs numb beneath him with the speed that he moved. There was no time to worry as he pushed past the unmemorable people who lined the halls as he went, his ears deaf to the cries that had convinced him of the other’s fate before. The world around him fuzzed in a flurry as he rounded the last corner, coming upon the room and skidding to an unnatural stop. It wasn’t until he was through the doorway that he heard the choking sob, his heart stopping as he looked in.

He paled to see the doctor leaning over the blond, his body wracking in a movement that accentuated each of the noises he made. He was holding him closely, something Killua had never seen, something that seemed as forbidden as it was intimate. He froze, wondering if he could have gotten it wrong, too shocked to reach out with his aura to touch them.

And then Leorio was looking up at him, his eyes wet but brighter than he had seen him in years, smiling tiredly through the tears. His hand stayed in the other’s hair as he beckoned Killua closer, not once ceasing his hiccupping.

“He’s going to come back. Kurapika’s going to wake up.”

The words didn’t even have time to register; Killua was next to them in an instant, his weight pressing into the opposite side of the mattress as he gripped the blond’s shirt, needing the touch as confirmation. Leorio’s free arm wove around his shoulders, pulling him into an awkward hug above the other as he shook, and a reassurance washed over the teen immediately. He could feel it now; there was a heartbeat under his fingers, a rhythm to the other’s energy that had been missing before, a small glimmer of something that separated the living from the near dead. The boy clutched at him, reaching toward his face with trepidant fingers, pulling back as he realized what he was doing.

Kurapika would live; it was all the more reason for Killua to distance himself.

It was all too much: with the warmth all around him, the familiar smell of Leorio’s cologne under layers of dirt and sweat, the feel of the Kurta’s shirt between his fingers. The relief that was flooding him felt painfully like home, like belonging, like finding what had been there all along. He looked down at his friend, awestruck as Kurapika shifted on his own at the excitement, and suddenly he was aware of the streams down his cheeks. He had begun crying before entering the room.

As overwhelmed as he was, Killua knew that it felt wrong. These were happy tears they were meant to share, the doctor and the killer, the two most unlikely friends in the world. Such emotive candor between them was rare, and truly to be treasured. The white haired teen couldn’t help but bury his head in Leorio’s shoulder, feeling as if he were sullying the moment with the twisting that was in his gut, the pain that something so wonderful was bringing him.

Kurapika would live; which meant that once again, it was time for Killua to leave.

Yet he let the moment pass, pushing the dark thoughts away with the reminder of how he was held, how he was cared for, how he was allowed to do the same for them in turn. He’d be damned if he ruined something else wonderful, damned if he let it be taken away. He wouldn’t have it for much longer anyway.

The weight that seemed to hover over the room lifted, like the rumbling of thunder from a storm already braved. It was as if the smell of death around them lessened, the sky outside had grown brighter, the cries from outside were instead a humble chorus. Killua guarded himself with these observed changes, held himself against the doctor as his shaking turned to laughter, strengthened himself enough to remember what this moment felt like. He watched as Kurapika’s features smoothed, a restful transition, as Leorio stroked his cheek with care. He recalled what it was like to wish for such comfort, and leaned into what he got.

It was painfully easy to ignore the presence in the doorway, always behind on the discoveries, and weep happily with his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, a semi-pleasant corner. That wont be happening too often, I think (I need the angst for the love!) Again, it isn't beta read and I'm sleepy, so kindly forgive any errors. Sorry that this feels rushed, the muse wasn't too happy with me today.
> 
> Thanks to those reading and commenting: the next chapter will be the start of the real drama!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit short, and all Gon's asshole POV. Don't worry, he'll get another kick in the head soon enough, and maybe the next chapter will give us a sneak peak into the past from a more reliable (coughKilluacough) source.

He stood on the threshold, watching, waiting, wondering what it would have been like to have shared in the moment.

He’d been late, again. It was a special talent of his, to miss something everyone else seemed to be in on, to figure it out in the focus of retrospect. It had always been endearing as a child; how he would bounce back in realization, his discovery stronger than those who had figured it out beforehand. This was not that. This felt like abandonment.

His senses had dulled over time; the loss of his Nen had been absolutely crippling in that sense. He’d begun to get it back, working with those he could find along the way to become once again aware of his aura. It had taken what felt like ages just to glimpse the power that he’d once had, to be able to taste it. Still, he wasn’t anywhere near being able to harness it, let alone sense others.

It really wasn’t his fault that he didn’t sense a change in Kurapika.

Instead, it came to him in the form of instinct: he simply knew that something had changed and turned to the only place it could have been. Though, honestly, his first thought had been about Killua.

Leorio’s words were just beginning to sink in when he’d had his last encounter with the ex-assassin. The static from the other’s hand had burned him, like a child who kept reaching for the stove only to find that it was in deed hot. When he’d walked away, another echo of a memory in which he didn’t turn to look back, something had clicked for Gon.

Even if he didn’t believe that he was in the wrong, even if there was blame to be shared, it didn’t matter. As far as Killua was concerned, he was as good as dead.  
His persistent optimism tried to get the better of him again, after that, the thoughts trying to convince him that no, this was not Killua, this was not how he felt, how he wanted to feel. He needed to be fixed, they needed to be fixed, but what he saw in that doorway alerted him to how horrible those thoughts truly were. How selfish. Looking at the younger teen, whose back was toward him as he buried his head into the doctor’s shirt jacket, it occurred to Gon that perhaps he was the problem.

Killua had never needed fixing. He’d been perfect from day one.

The past years played out in his mind as he stood, barely hearing the sobbing coming from the pair before him. It was still hard to pinpoint where it had all gone wrong, but the when was much simpler. The last fight had been horrendous by all accounts, like nothing they had engaged in before. It had left Gon alone in the world. It had left Killua empty.

All he wanted was to go back to before. To the moments when they were still children. For the first six months after the final battle, the raven haired teen had banished all thoughts of his former friend. When he returned home to Whale Island and Mito asked where Killua was, Gon had lied (she knew, of course, but the look in his eye must have been something as she didn’t lock him out for the night). When he returned to Heaven’s Arena, thinking Zushi might have taken up residence as a floor master, he ignored the whispers of two children who had taken the lower levels by storm some years past. When he found himself in the presence of old friends, traveling acquaintances, he didn’t stay for long. It was how he had gotten into the last fight with Leorio, the reminder of Killua too much for him to handle. They’d both snapped, and Gon had gone his way, searching down another lead for Ging.

Except there were no new leads. There never were, anymore.

Staying in fancy hotel rooms at night reminded him of what had seemed like an endless sleepover. When he fought, which was not often but did happen, he sometimes slipped up, forgetting that no one had his back. Each casual touch from a stranger reminded him of how much he missed the hand that had fit so naturally in his. It was a strange feeling, to simultaneously want something while trying to force it into the very back of your mind.

After those torturous months, the moments of anger and longing for his friend, he gave up trying to ignore it. Wherever he went, he wondered what it would be like with Killua at his side. When he did something he thought the other would have enjoyed, he stored it in his head, keeping the story safe for when they’d see each other next. He ate all of the younger one’s favorite foods, even though he wasn’t as fond of sweets, just to feel nearer to him. He remembered every detail that he had never bothered to notice before, every action that triggered a memory and why.

It was easier to admit he was lonely when he’d admitted how much he hated their separation. It was easier to deal with when he decided that he’d look for Killua while he sought out Ging.

He’d been on the new mission for a while, though he hadn’t had any luck. It was no wonder, though. The white haired teen was a master at disappearing into the ether, leaving no traces behind. He’d employed zetsu in his everyday life, making him nearly impossible to sense even if they’d been in the same room together. Gon had even stooped to asking his friends, but none of them had given him any hints as to the other whereabouts. Leorio had smacked him over the head.

It was then that he had gotten the call. He’d known it was important, especially since Leorio hadn’t really spoken to him since he’d stormed off in a huff. When the name popped up on his beetle phone, he had stopped everything to hear the other out. It had been purely out of fear, the fear of losing yet another one of the people he cared about, that he’d made it to the godforsaken city in just a few days.

Now, seeing the three people he cared about most in the world, Gon’s whole being felt wrong.

Kurapika was dying. There was no doubt that even if he woke up, there were still battles to be fought. No one had talked about getting out of the city, as the prospect of the other waking had grown slimmer and slimmer, and no one really knew how. Leorio had pushed Gon away- though it had really been the other way around. It was so difficult to hear from his first friend that he should stay away from the other, both back then and just the day before. He’d always trusted the doctor beyond a reasonable doubt, but this warning was one he could not take. Killua… Killua wanted nothing to do with him. Killua was better off without him. Killua had turned to stone, closed off his heart from his once friend, made his way into the world without him.

Once upon a time, he had been that boy’s everything. Now, he knew what it felt like to be nothing to him.

Killua wept, held in the doctor’s arms, who was also weeping, holding on to the Kurta. Leorio’s embrace was awkward, but tight, his other hand reaching out to touch the blond’s cheek. Together, they formed a triangle, a single strong unit, a series of open ended connections that were filled by each other. As Gon looked on, he realized how he had isolated himself.

He knew Kurapika would be alright, without hearing it, knew that the tears shed were not out of sadness, but out of relief. Even so, he felt a lump rise in his throat, a sickness taking him as he watched his family move on without him.

He wished for a moment that he was ignorant of his shortcomings, but he’d known he was lying to himself for quite some time.

When Gon wanted something, he usually got it. He’d fight for it, bleed for it, come as close to dying for it as he possibly could without ever crossing that threshold, and he’d have it. But Killua had always been there when he’d desired something, and had always given him a helping hand. At one point, he’d almost sacrificed both of his over Gon’s childish whims.

Watching the boy who refused to look at him anymore, refused to speak to him or be touched by him, be held gently as he cried, Gon knew there was no point in lying any more. What he wanted was there, had always been there, and this time Killua wasn’t going to help him get it. He’d have to try extra hard to win this game, because that’s all it was, all it ever was. If he let himself think of it any other way, he would’ve found himself terrified of being hated.

Remembering his feet, the dark haired teen made his way toward the bed, sitting in the chair that had been Killua’s. He let his gaze wander from the boy in question over to Kurapika, who looked different. There was a better color in his cheeks, under the layer of dirt that was common to the city, and he was facing a slightly different direction than before. He made a small sound in his throat, and Gon’s whole face lit up as he realized that the other was close to returning to consciousness.

Gon had cried many times in his life, out of fear or anger, frustration or sadness, but never before had he cried silently. Looking at Kurapika, knowing that he would somehow make it, looking at Leorio, knowing that he’d come to help eventually, and looking at Killua, who was holding on to the other two like lifelines, Gon’s eyes overflowed for the first time since he’d gotten there. Not wanting to disturb the other two, or shift the focus of the room, he covered his mouth with his hand, letting all of the caged emotions out, trembling as he did. He cried out the happiness at the other’s recovery, the loneliness he had been dealing with for the past years, the anger at his friends for not understanding, the pure, utter distraught he felt towards Killua. Leorio glanced at him gently, with an almost smile and a nod, before pulling Killua closer, as if he could drown out Gon’s presence while keeping him from going.

Gon wasn’t going to leave. He was never going to leave again. Through the tears, he set his goal, never wanting to have to relive these past days ever again. He’d have his family back, no matter what it took for him to get them. It took everything in him, every ounce of self-control, not to jump up and envelope the three of them in his arms. It took everything not to want to trap them, keep them as prisoners in his heart, chain them to him forever.

He’d have them back: starting with his most important person.

The question was, how could he fix something if the other boy wouldn’t even let him near? With a smile, he remembered the white haired boy’s words from so many years ago, when teaching him the trick to making it up to the top floors of Heaven’s Arena.

Just push.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice comments are welcome! Feel free to complain about Gon (he's being kind of a jerk, I know). Next chapter will be Killua-centric, and then we'll switch it up to some Leopika drama!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So, as promised, here's a Killua-centric chapter.  
>  **Important Note** : if anyone feels that Alluka is anything but a girl, then GTFO. Its cannon. If you don't understand, then please read into it (and not on the super transphobic wiki page thank you), because I'm not having any shit over this.  
> This chapter contains violence, so be warned. (I will not be putting warnings throughout, so please heed the rating.)

_“Nii-chan!” She only reverted to using “chan” when she was in a teasing mood or terrified. It was clear, as fire fell from the sky, that it was the latter._

_He tackled her as a fiery rock fell from the sky, leaving a crater the size of a small house where she had been standing. He turned as he went, moving just in time so that his back smashed into the tree that was standing in his trajectory, shielding the smaller girl as it exploded on impact, wood and fire raining over them. There was a whirling sound, something whipping past him as he tried to spot the safest path out. He turned, seeing too late. There was no other option as he pushed the younger one out of his arms, her small frame tumbling into the hole in the ground as something slammed into his stomach, sending him flying back._

_“Killua!”_

_The other voice made his eyes snap open, his attention turning to its owner. A scream sounded on his other side, high and feminine, and he shifted his gaze. The world around him was fuzzing, the impact too hard, the blood loss too much. He was so torn, two voices calling out to him, helpless and needy. Standing, despite the blood clouding half of his vision, he lunged toward the pit._

 

“I can’t help with what’s to come.”

Leorio gave him a curious look, one that was trying to read the teen. Killua was too tired to hide anything, his face blank because there was nothing for it to show. The doctor seemed to hear both what he was saying and what he wasn’t, nodding in response.

“I’ll tell him you were here.” Killua’s eyes thanked him, wide and emotional for a short moment, before he went back to his worn expression. Leorio watched as he walked away, the muscles in his back tight, before disappearing back into the small room that held his friend. He knew he’d find the other waiting there, a determination written on his face. The doctor sighed, wondering if his words would have any effect if he tried.

 

_“Get down!”_

_His voice was hoarse as he screamed, the other moving at the command but not quickly enough, his arm getting scorched. He screamed at the sight, watching as the boy stood, clutching himself in an angry pain. Killua held the shaking bundle in his arms as he stared, captivated by the sight._

_Gon stood, drenched in fire, his eyes reminiscent of a past the other though he would never have to see again._

_He snapped out of it as a small hand clawed at his arm, and ran toward the other boy at top speed. He was there in a flash, the boy blinking at him as he tried to drag him away, searching frantically for safety._

_“You have to run!” He didn’t have time for talking. They were closing in, he was almost there. They had to move quickly if they wanted to survive, if he wanted to save them from-_

_“No, let me help you! We can do this together!” He’d punched Gon then, not hard, but enough to send the teen backward. He glared, his teeth set hard._

_“We need to move! Now! This isn’t a fight!” He wasn’t hearing, wasn’t understanding. Something burst into flames nearby, another impact, and the girl buried her face into his chest. Shaking. Crying._

_“Damn it, Gon, run!”_

 

He knew he was being followed, of course. The other wasn’t doing a very good job of it, or of hiding it for that matter, but then again he didn’t know why he would hide that fact. The way out of the city was more difficult to navigate than the way in: he had traveled mostly downhill to get there. It was no wonder that the old traveler had never managed to get back out, with the way the jungled forest seemed to want to destroy everything it enveloped. Devour it.

He moved slower than he would have otherwise, extremely aware of the aura that followed him. It’d be easy to lose Gon once they reached the edges of the mountains, once they were in a safer place. As much as he wanted to leave him behind, let him find his own way out and just be done with it, he found it impossible. After everything they had been through, _after that_ , leaving him behind wasn’t something he was prepared to do.

Without his Nen, Gon was like a helpless child compared to Killua. He needed protecting. He needed someone to watch over him, whether he knew it or not. These were all the justifications that spun around the white haired teen’s head, whispering justification as he took the longer, but safer path against his instincts just so the other could trail behind.

Once they were out, he’d disappear. He had a talent for not being found if he didn’t want to be.

 

_“Take her,” he shouted over the noise, depositing the girl into Gon’s injured arms. The other boy held her close, but wasn’t about to give up._

_“Killua- “_

_“Get her out of here, Gon. Please!” He was begging, blood dripping down his face as he saw the figure descending from the burning woods out of the corner of his eye, stalking towards them like a predatory cat. He turned to face him, but there was a hand on his arm, grabbing him painfully._

_“Stop it Killua! Let me help you, I know I can do this!” He pushed off the hand, shooting the boy a look he’d never worn before. His eyes were hard, but tears were leaking down his face, mixing with the blood staining his cheeks. There were no words to argue with, nothing to be said that could change the utter despair and burning of hate that they spoke of silently._

_“Get out. Keep her safe.” He was gone in a second, charging toward the figure with full speed. Gon didn’t want to watch, his hands shielding the young girl from the screams that sounded._

 

They were nearing the edge. It had been four days of hiding in trees, four days of killing the small, poisonous animals that tried to sneak up on the other in his sleep, four days of watching and waiting as he guided him through the thick.

Darkness was falling. During the daytime hours, sunlight had begun to penetrate through the trees, signaling how close they were to the border. He itched to make a break for it, so close to freedom, but he was going to see him through until the end. Gon had built a fire, a foolish thing in Killua’s opinion, but it was enough to keep him visibly lit among the seemingly never ending black that was falling as night came down upon them. Killua was watching him closely, not twenty meters away, trying to gauge the other. There was little he could tell, in part because of his angle in the trees, but he did notice the tension that gathered in the other’s shoulders after he’d disappeared for a short while to find himself something to eat.

Gon was stalling.

He figured that when he got this close to the other Gon pick up on it. He’d only done it because their time together was so short: maybe there was something he could learn about this new Gon, about why he seemed so desperate to follow him. What he hadn’t expected was for Gon to act oblivious, to let himself be tracked while he was tracking Killua –everything was a circle between them--, to pretend he wasn’t there instead of pursuing him all the more vigorously.

The difference was not something Killua liked.

After their initial parting, after he had laid his priorities out and open, Gon had begun to change. At first, he’d blamed Killua: if he hadn’t left in the first place then there wouldn’t have been any need for things to be different. Somewhere, deep down, the white haired teen was sure that they both knew better, whether Gon was willing to admit it or not. No matter how they wanted it, things would never be the same after they parted. Even if they hadn’t been angry (which they had), even if they hadn’t been broken (in different ways, but equally), even if Gon hadn’t chosen his own path (which he _did_ ) and Killua hadn’t been responsible for another human life (which he _was_ ), nothing would have been the same. It was then, when they came across each other again and were travelling, the three of them together, that Killua saw how Gon was growing up.

This was age without the wisdom, growth without maturity. Though they were still children, they were also so very not anymore that sometimes he couldn’t stand the way Gon would fake his ignorance. He’d pretend, force blindness, until he eventually believed the pretense for himself. It was his naivety gone entirely wrong.  
Killua knew that he was hanging back, watching from the treetops because he wasn’t trying to throw Gon off his trail. He was hunting him, his goal the same as Gon’s. Confrontation. Even though he hated himself for what he was about to do, he knew how much it needed to be done. For both of them.

Silently, he slid from the branches, his feet hitting the floor of the jungled forest.

 

_His hands were like daggers, but they were nothing compared to his father’s._

_He’d managed to land a hit, a single blow to the face, nearly gouging the man’s eye out before he was served one himself. It was out of pure foreknowledge of his techniques and teachings that the teen was able to maneuver so that he only lost a chunk of his upper arm instead of the whole thing. He was certainly faster, with electricity coming off of him in waves with each movement, but Silva’s attacks were each a careful move, a game of chess with flesh as forfeit._

_He’d thought that the next hit would be a killing blow, for one of them at least, but he didn’t expect the distraction. Neither did the older man, it seemed, as a rock flying through the air at him nearly took off his head, moving just in time for it to miss by a fraction of an inch. Killua whipped his head around, seeing Gon standing close by, looking ready for action._

_Alluka was nowhere in sight._

_“Gon!” Killua screamed, panic and agony ripping through his voice as he forgot where he was standing, searching frantically for his sister. The other teen ran towards him, throwing his arm off to the side as a signal of direction. Killua followed the motion, seeing a shaky heap beside a larger tree, one that had not caught fire yet. He’d left her, left her there, all alone and without anyone to protect her and-_

_He wasn’t in the fight, not any longer. All he could see was her, all he knew was that he had to get her out before hell swallowed her whole. He moved, fast as lightning, the old assassin making no move to stop him. He didn’t have to._

_“No, onii-san.” There was a figure in his way, shrouded in his dark kimono, hair so much longer than the last time he had seen him. Something inside Killua died as he was halted, the intruder standing between him and his sister._

_Kalluto._

_The rest was nothing but a blur. He’d turned back, facing his father, lighting up the woods with his electricity. It happened too quickly, the impulses moving directly from his brain to his hands and legs through his aura, nervous system bypassed as he moved, intent on destruction. The pain, the claws that dug into him, the teeth, was intensified a thousand fold with the singing of his nerves, the direct transmutation amplifying everything. Gon was nowhere in his view. He remembered screaming, he couldn’t stop screaming. He remembered ripping through the man in front of him like a rabid animal, not caring the consequences,  
taking all the punishment he could handle before death._

_He remembered Kalluto, doing nothing but staring, his eyes completely dead._

_Killua had laid down after that, eyes completely open but unseeing, as the figure in front of him shuffled away, alive but only barely. He wasn’t sure if he’d even make it out of the woods, but his brain was too damaged by the shocks for it to register completely. He was equally as unaware of his brother’s retreat: for all he knew, Kalluto could have collected his father on his way out. All that remained when he woke up was a lingering memory, a look on his face that he would see in his dreams._

_Gon had carried him out of that place, taking Alluka with them. He’d brought them to the safety of an inn, tended to Killua’s wounds as best he could, made sure that his sister was watched over while he slept. It was days before Killua had woken, his body repairing him in his sleep. It was another week before he was able to see again, the blue of his eyes having faded to a milky white._

_When he’d woken up, he’d told Gon that if he ever saw him again, he’d kill him on the spot._

 

Gon made no sign that he’d noticed when Killua came up behind him. He sat, perfectly still, focused on the fire in front of him. It gave the other a moment of silence to circle around the flames, settling on a spot directly across from the pit, demanding attention. Though Gon looked up at him when he spoke, he kept   
his eyes trained down, intent on not being interrupted by questioning eyes.

“I was only fourteen then, when I had my heart broken. That was the first time. I didn’t even know what it meant to be in love, but you taught me rejection. You taught me true pain, despite what the whips and knives and poisons had tried to school me in. You taught me what it meant to be left behind. The wound was still raw when you dug in again. You betrayed me, you nearly let everything I love die. And still, I loved you.”

_You tore me apart._

He left, moving toward civilization and into the night. Unlike last time, he did not look back.

Gon waited until he was done. He listened and watched, silent, with deadened features as Killua bared himself to the older boy. He took it in as his friend broke down through the words, tears streaming down his face, blood seeping from the wounds his nails had caused in his own palms. He waited until Killua was done, choking and heaving under the weight of his suffering, before watching the boy turn his back to him and walk away.

Only then did he fall to his knees, as broken as the boy he had destroyed, to bury his head in his hands and scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading: hope this shed some light on what's going on between these boys. This was actually the idea that got me writing this to begin with, so I hope you all liked it. Next up is the Leopika side; so don't be expecting fluff bunnies quite just yet.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, more angsty Leopika, and another hint at what the heck is happening.  
> See end for info on updates.

Heavy. His body, his arms felt heavy. He couldn’t feel his legs.

The first thing he saw was a ceiling, one he did not recognize. It was dark, light flickering haphazardly as if it could not be contained, illuminating the stains on the walls. He took a moment to focus on breathing, a task that seemed more difficult than usual. Something was weighing down on him, something that covered his entire body. A blanket was pulled up to his chin, entirely too suffocating and smelling of death. Focusing, he lifted his head, failing on the first try but succeeding well enough on the second to make out a figure, the center of what was keeping him pulled down.

Leorio was asleep, half on the bed and half in his chair, his arms tucked under his head in the younger one’s lap. The look on his face was restful if not exhausted, bags clear under his eyes His breathing was heavy, but quiet, strangely juxtaposing each other as his chest lifted and fell. It was a foreign feeling, having the other so near, but it immediately put him at ease, a sort of relief washing over him in an instant. Whatever he expected, whatever had happened, if Leorio could sleep soundly then everything was alright. Had his hands not been weighed down by some invisible force, he’d have reached out to run his fingers through the other’s dirty black hair. Or perhaps he wouldn’t have. It didn’t matter, as the urge was unfulfillable. In much the same vein, the Kurta opened his mouth on instinct, trying to say something, but the words were caught. Instead, a small noise escaped him, his throat burning from the effort.

Leorio sat up immediately, awake at the sound. His eyes widened as he took in the sight before him, shock setting in timely and turning into something else. Kurapika stared, his throat rebelling against his desire to say something, anything.

Leorio smiled up at him, genuine and overjoyed. For a moment, the Kurta’s heart actually stopped.

Then he was up, arms out to take the younger man’s head in his hands and lay him back down, saying something about rest and exertion, words that were lost on his friend. His ears tingled. It was a moment before his senses sorted themselves out, the doctor pulling his chair up so that he could sit by Kurapika’s head, which he had propped up to the best of his ability with a combination of what was supposed to be a pillow and his suit jacket. When his equilibrium returned, the blond looked over at him, coughing for a moment before opening his mouth again. Leorio was scrambling for water, torn between leaving the room to get it and staying exactly where he was.

“Leorio.”

He stopped moving immediately, the sound of his name almost bringing tears to his eyes. Still, he held back, keeping himself as in check as he could be as the other stared at him. His voice was hoarse, as if he’d swallowed sandpaper, but it had a profound effect. He was awake. He was alive.

“You’re here.” He croaked, his voice revealing his disoriented state. The doctor smiled lightly at him, moving to reach for his hand before stopping himself. He was conscious. It wasn’t the time.

“So are you.” It was a question more than a statement, but he let it pass as one. Kurapika eyed him willfully before closing his eyes, his head spinning for no reason. It was hard to speak when he couldn’t manage breathing.

Leorio put a hand on his shoulder, grounding him for a moment. He looked back at the doctor, clear worry in his face. He wanted to laugh, call him stupid for looking like that, but it was too much effort. It didn’t reflect how he felt anyway.

“You’re not going anywhere, are you?” The doctor looked at him with hard eyes, as if he were bracing himself for something. It pained the blond’s chest to hear such a question asked so seriously, as if he’d give in to death so easily. At the same time, he knew how much he deserved it.

“Just sleeping. You?” The grip on his shoulder relaxed, turning into a smooth caress as it moved down his arm. The blond let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding at that. He wouldn’t be able to manage if he needed to keep reminding himself to inhale every few seconds. The hand settled on his wrist, drawing soothing circles on the pale skin. Kurapika had the fleeting notion that he should be scolding the other for it, forbidding it for some reason, but the relaxed sigh that escaped him was evidence that he didn’t have it in him. It felt nice. Briefly, he wondered how impaired he must have been.

“I’ll be here, right next to you.” Leorio’s words were uncharacteristically meticulous, something Kurapika noted he’d have to remember for later. He wasn’t sure if it was hours or mere seconds later, but his eyes had closed, making way for sleep. 

When he woke later, more aware of his surroundings, Leorio was there, by his side.

The doctor had watched him slip in and out of consciousness, reaching for his hand when he slept, as if it kept him there. The blond had opened his eyes a few times, losing consciousness quickly thereafter, but having grasped it for a moment. Each time had been a small terror for the man standing by, a moment unsure if he’d wake back up, or if he’d slip back into a state of deeper slumber. This time, though, he was entirely there.

“Where am I?” The words came out more naturally than the last had, startling the doctor. Kurapika hadn’t lifted his head, staying utterly still.

“Hospital… kind of. We’re in Moa-tuao.” He noticed when the other’s eyes tinted red at the edges, but did not change fully. It was a hint at his exhaustion.

“I see.” Quiet followed, a quiet that the doctor was keen on interrupting, but couldn’t. “How long have I been here?” Leorio shrugged, leaning back in his chair to look at the blond.

“You, no idea. Both of us, about a week.” The Kurta stared openly for a moment before turning his head away, seeming to think about something. Leorio let him, knowing that the rest was going to be complicated.

“How did you find me?” This was not one of the first questions he thought he’d be answering; in fact, the doctor was sure that he had more that he was owed in terms of answers than the other, but he obliged him anyway.

“Someone here speaks our language. They found my name in your phone and boosted the call so that it could get through the mountains. I got here a couple of days later.” Seeing that the other was about to say something, he pushed a bit. “You were asking for me.”

Kurapika’s mouth shut immediately.

Taking his silence as an excuse to dive right in, the doctor scooted his chair closer to the bed, seating himself directly in the other’s sideways line of view. The blond was avoiding his gaze, expression as blank as he could make it in his state. Even so, it said that he knew what was coming next.

“What the hell happened, Kurapika? Why would you even come here? It’s been two years since I’ve heard from you, and this is how I find you?” His voice was growing steadily louder, elevating as his original questions became lost in what he had been holding in for far too long. He seemed to realize this, though, falling to a near whisper as he voiced a hurt the other had been avoiding in his absence.

“Leorio-”

“You almost died, do you know that?”

“Leorio!”

The doctor looked down at the other, his voice breaking through the barrage of thoughts that had been slipping past his lips. The Kurta was trying to return the gaze, but the angle and the effort was too much. His shoulder rolled as he tried to readjust, punctuated with a sick popping noise. They both grimaced in response.

“Could you… lift me? I can’t sit up.” The anger was immediately gone as the older man jumped to his aid, circling an arm around the other’s back and holding his head with his free hand. It took a minute of maneuvering, and trying to find something for him to lean against, before he was situated properly. The whole ordeal seemed to exhaust the blond even more than he had been.

“Thank you,” he breathed, eyes closing with the effort. The doctor gave him a moment to steady himself, knowing how difficult it must have been for him to even stay awake, let alone be interrogated. Still, it didn’t quite stop him.

“Where have you been?”

The blond sighed, knowing better than to try to play around the question. Leorio had a way of infuriating him like no other; that’s why he had stopped calling with shallow updates to begin with. Well, that and the fact that Leorio felt like the closest thing to home he could remember. It made it harder to stay away when taking refuge with the other was so enticing. So warm.

He didn’t have the time for such trivialities.

“Around. I was freelancing with the Family,” he didn’t have to say which one for Leorio to understand, “but then I came across a lead that I couldn’t pass up. It took me to a dead end, but that dead end turned out to be another job. Things had been like that for a while until…”

He began to cough, segwaying into an awkward silence as the doctor stared him down. The blond brought his fingers to his lips, a silent gesture. The other understood, somehow, and fumbled with something on the other side of the room. He returned a moment later with a chipped cup, bringing it to where the other’s fingers had been so that he could drink. The water was devastatingly needed, coating his throat and bringing him back to a place where he could speak.

“I thought I was being underestimated. It seems that the opposite was true.” He looked out past the barred window, really no more than a hole in the wall, the rusted metal infrastructure peeking out. It was enough to warrant a distraction, of at least the pretense of one.

“What happened?” He shook his head, but stopped immediately, as it was a dizzying feat.

“How about a trade, Leorio? I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.” The older man looked about ready to throttle him. Playing up the illness, the Kurta shot him a weak look, forcing the hint of a smile. Surely, the other could see how exhausting talking was. It seemed to work, as the tension eased from the other man’s body, his look still hard. Perhaps he wouldn’t give up just yet. No, Leorio was stubborn that way. He cared too much.

“Fine, so long as you answer all of my questions. What do you want to know?”

Kurapika ignored the ultimatum, neither agreeing nor disputing it.

“What’s my condition?” He gestured down himself, wincing at the movement. The doctor sighed, running a hand through his hair and pulling out a tiny notepad from his inner jacket pocket. He fiddled with it between his fingers, but didn’t open it. He didn’t need to.

“You won’t be up walking around anytime soon, if that’s what you mean. You’ve got a shattered kneecap, fractured ribs, and who knows what else. I had to reflate one of your lungs; that took minor invasive surgery on my part, so mind your left side. I’ll need to give you a proper once over as soon as we’re out of here. You need a hospital.”

So his Nen had improved, that was something he’d have to make use of. They both knew there was no way Kurapika would willingly enter a hospital, but neither of them said it. Still, the implication of Leorio’s words hung over them heavily. The Kurta worked down a rising panic, his emotions not quite as in check as they usually were. Of course Leorio wanted to keep an eye on him. He’d be sure to change that.

“Thank you. What else?”

“How about what happened?”

Silence.

He didn’t realize he was frowning until he noticed how the edges of his mouth hurt. Instead, he schooled him expression to blank passivity.

“I don’t know what you know, where you’ve been or how involved you are with the rest of the Hunter world, but things have changed since we were young, Leorio. Things have become very different. My vengeance is no longer a dream; it feels close to becoming a reality. There’s a new member, of the Ryodan. I received word that he may be out here, somewhere. His Nen abilities are still unrefined. It seemed like a logical progression to finding what I seek.”

The doctor had been looking at him when he began speaking, but his eye were now downcast, stuck to a spot on the floor that the other could not see. Kurapika looked at him inquisitively, wondering if he had said enough.

As far as Leorio was concerned, he never said enough. He never said anything, just half-truths and empty details about where he was, what he was doing. It only made him worry all the more.

“Killua was here.”

Kurapika’s eyes became wide, holding back the red as he tried not to give anything away.

“I called him as soon as I got here. It took him less time to get here than it took me, but the kid’s always been good. He stayed by your side the whole time.” Leorio paused, looking him directly in the eye. “He wept, for you.” Kurapika swallowed, which must have been enough for the other, as he continued. “I’ve never seen him cry so much. Hell, I didn’t think I’d be able to pry him off of you, at one point.”

Perhaps Leorio wasn’t as ignorant of his situation as he thought.

“When did he leave?” The doctor leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs as he went. His arms were woven in a tight x across his chest, eyebrows tight. The blond didn’t have to be a genius to know how angry he was.

“Day before yesterday. He stuck around until he knew you’d be alright.” _Then he ran from one of our friends_. “What makes you think he deserves what you’re doing to him?” The Kurta was about to retort, make a clever statement about how it was his turn for questions, only to discover that he’d used his already. The look Leorio gave him might have well said “nice try.”

“ I assume Gon wasn’t here, then.”

“Yes, Gon was here,” the doctor snapped, losing his patience. He wasn’t as much of a fool as the other liked to pretend; he’d been around Kurapika for long enough to know of his games. He’d spent about a month two years ago dealing with just this. “He stayed, despite that.”

“I see.” He really hadn’t expected that. He’d run into Gon once before, during the absence, only to find the white haired teen not with him. It had been a shock, to say the least, when the other had shied away from the topic, but he had been on the lam, hiding from a bounty hunter who had wanted his head on a stake. Well, his eyes in particular.

“You see? Kurapika, what makes you think he deserves what you’re doing to him? _You’re hunting his brother!_ ” No, Leorio was not as ignorant as he liked. He looked away again, fearing what he would say if he met the other’s eyes. How his would change.

“Perhaps I could save him.” 

It was a whisper, the hinting of words and no more. Again, he had paled, his eyes blank, staring out into a vast space that didn’t exist within the confines of the room. The doctor stared at him, bewildered, then stood and made his way to the door.

“He’s not the one who needs saving right now.”

And for the first time since he’d held the bleeding blond in his arms, Leorio left the room, more afraid for him than he had been before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the **next update** will not be for another 2 weeks. If you want to see what happens, but don't think you'll notice when it pops up, hit the subscribe button: you'll get an alert when I update.  
>  Sorry to leave you guys on a cliffhanger, but I've got exams (again, I know). Holiday is just around the corner.  
> If you like it, leave me a nice comment! I don't always get back to all of them (and not particularly timely), but it helps me gauge my audience.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK.
> 
> So, this is probably the closest we'll get to comic relief in this fic, if you can call Killu getting pissed comic relief. Honestly, I find the idea of Gon just popping up annoyingly very 1999 version funny, but then again, I just finished exams **yesterday** so my sense of humor is definitely a bit off.

_Damn the bastard._

Gon was in his hotel room. Again.

The first time was five days after Killua had left him on the outskirts of the jungled wood; he’d just opened the door, tired and ready for a warm bath, and there he was, standing as if he owned the room. He’d stared, mouth agape for a moment, before slamming the door and finding an abandoned building to spend the night in. Sure, Gon was bound to find him eventually, but denying him a bed to sleep in while doing it was just plain rude.

The second time was three days after that. He’d traveled by airship to the other side of the continent, taken a boat to the northern shore, rented a room in one of the more luxurious inns in the fisherman city, only to find Gon sitting on his bed when he opened the door. He’d looked tired, exhausted really, but his eyes had lit up upon seeing the white haired teen.

“Killua-”

Killua fought the urge to pull his hair out.

He’d spent that night in a small boat, tied to the docks, wondering how much money Gon would owe him for unslept in rooms by the end of it all. The current total was enough to make Leorio cringe. 

After that he’d pulled another disappearing act, turning to the City of Lights. It was easier than anything to get lost in the crowds; there were rumors that people who left for the city were never heard from again. The younger teen knew that it was probably no more than an urban legend, that people probably chose the most populated and advanced city to escape from their old lives, but he couldn’t help but admit that there was something eerie about the place. It operated on opposite hours from the rest of the world: the citizens woke at dusk and scurried like rats until dawn. During the daylight hours the streets were virtually abandoned, a buzzing silence falling over the skyscrapers, holding the guise of a ghost town. Despite its sheer size from the ground up, the real heart of the city was underground, towering as deeply as it did below compared with above. The underbelly lay in the center, both where sun hit and did not, the streets as deserted during business hours as they did in the early hours of morning.

It lasted two days.

Killua avoided the streets during the daytime, knowing that it was less likely that he’d be spotted if he stuck with the hustle and bustle of the lively hours. The night always smelled of whiskey there, like the younger crowd had nothing better to do than drink and dance and procreate. He couldn’t even blame them; the atmosphere oozed excess, even in its poverty. The neon signs that lined the streets made the asphalt glow, the darkness never quite drowned out. The vast majority of businesses were bars, most with booming music and dance floors in the back, all with bouncers larger than any of the bodyguards they had seen in Yorkshin during the Don wars. The ville practically begged to be treated like a paradise of intoxication, the aura of sex and danger lingering in the air just as addictive as the substances the teen saw passed between the hands of hookers, who seemed to hold quite a bit of power in the underground. It wasn’t all like that; there were plenty of respectable enough neighborhoods from what he had seen on his way in, but this was what people came here for. Nothing was more intoxicating than the opportunity for sin.

His hotel was in the underground, taking up the first few dozen stories of one of the skyscrapers that pointed toward the center of the earth. There was a bullet train that passed by one block over; a quick escape if he found he needed out with little notice, which he was hoping he could avoid. He’d arrived without a hitch up until check in, the woman behind the counter giving him a suspicious look when he hesitated in handing over the card that he pulled out of his pocket. It hadn’t occurred to him until then as to how Gon was finding him, how he’d managed to make his way from city to city on the other’s tail without fail. He paused, moments before turning the card over in his palm so it could be seen, realizing his mistake.

After all, he’d been the one to teach the other how to use the internet.

He’d hurriedly shoved his Hunter’s license back into his pocket, depositing a wad of cash into the woman’s hand instead. How foolish of him; he’d only started using his license again a few months before the call, when he’d received word that his family was no longer concerned about his and Alluka’s whereabouts. He’d made sure that she was safe, as far away from him as humanly possible before giving it a try, just to see what would happen. There had been silence in the ether, not even the whispering of Nen on the wind when he had, enough to keep him using it wherever he went (with the exception of visiting his sister when he could get the chance). It was proof enough that the battles were over, at least for the time being. Even his father, sick as he was, would give him fair warning before coming after him again.

He had done that last time. That was all the proof he needed.

He’d gone for a less luxurious room this time, choosing instead something middle of the range comfortable, hoping that the other would expect otherwise. He didn’t really need the extras anyway; at this point all he cared about was a hot shower and something other than rock or wood to sleep on. He opened the door to find the room empty, breathing an audible sigh of relief.

He got one night of sleep in his own bed before it was taken over.

To be fair, it had been _his_ choice. Sort of. Not that his conscience had anything to do with it. Damn the green wearing idiot for softening his heart to begin with.

His hunch about the license turned out to be true; but it didn’t matter. Gon found him anyway. Or he found Gon. Honestly, it was a matter of semantics.

He was less than surprised at the prospect that Gon had started a fight; it had become an increasingly common occurrence since their initial reunion. He figured it was directly correlated to the loss of his Nen, and part of him understood while the rest of him resented the boy for it. He’d felt the other’s presence from a few blocks away (there was nothing mystical about it; he had a sixth sense when it came to his once friend’s whereabouts); the older teen had probably been trying to sneak into the back of one of the clubs, thinking that he had caught a glimpse of the other. The man beating on him was three times his size, and though Gon was holding his own it was only barely. He took a hit to the stomach as he spotted Killua, the white haired one’s name coming out as a strangled noise as he doubled over, eyes bright and shining. The younger one’s energy flared up; even he didn’t know if he was more angry at the man hitting his once friend or the boy himself. Probably the latter.

“Who the hell is this?” the man with the iron fists barked, watching as Killua’s hands clenched at his sides, the muscles in his arms becoming taut as he shook with rage. Gon stumbled up immediately, locking eyes with the other teenager dangerously. He opened his mouth, words specifically crafted for the moment on his tongue.

“Killua! He’s my mo-” He was silenced by a sickening punch to the jaw, air crackling around them as the electric boy moved. The bouncer stepped back shakily as Gon fell to the ground, the white haired teen breathing hard after the force of the hit, eyes wide and furious. He’d known what the other was moments from saying, hated him for it. The least he deserved was a punch to the face, after pulling a stunt like that so knowingly.

_Most important person my ass._

But then he was stuck with the unforeseen consequences, standing in that dirty alleyway, with Gon refusing to pick himself up off of the ground. He kicked at the boy’s shin, not too gently, only to find that he was unconscious.

_God damn it._

There was really only one option; he’d stacked the deck himself. It would’ve been wrong to leave him there, where anything could have happened, would have been a disgrace to the friendship that they had once possessed. It was the least he could do, really, to throw him over his shoulder (and when had Gon gotten so _big_?) and carry him back to the hotel.

They both pretended not to notice when Gon woke up just before they arrived, the boy growing laxer in Killua’s hold as he relaxed into the touch. Killua pointedly ignored this, but made sure to drop him onto the mattress a little harder than necessary.

They sat in silence, the teen standing by stiff, his head turned to the side. Gon refused to open his eyes, smiling ever so slightly to himself, as if this was an improvement. It was, in its way. They were in the same room together, alone, for the first time in far too long – at least as far as Gon was concerned. Killua was still fuming, the blatant rage dying down into a still deadly simmer.

“I should really kill you, you know.” Gon peeked an eye open at this, noting how the other was staring out the window. He sat up, energetic as always, crossing his legs beneath him. A hand came up to his chin, rubbing gently at it, but it didn’t stop him from grinning.

“It’s okay if it’s Killua.” The other boy’s head snapped over to him, biting words on his tongue. He stopped before he could speak. Gon’s smile was lopsided, not quite reaching his eyes. His shoulders were slumped, the hand that wasn’t touching bruised skin wringing at his shorts almost nervously. He looked… sad. Somber. He looked just as tired of chasing as Killua was about being chased.

“You know I can’t do that, stupid.” His voice lost its fire, his posture slackening to meet the other’s. Somehow, he felt weaker than he did moments ago. It was incredibly frustrating, wanting to tear Gon’s throat out while simultaneously hating feeling that way.

For half a second, he wished he could just stop being angry.

But, like with most things, Gon had to open his mouth.

“Where’s Alluka?”

The fire was back as Killua was reminded why he was angry with the other boy in the first place, wanting to throttle him for the genuine innocent curiosity in his voice as he asked. His eyes went cold, meeting the other’s so sharply that Gon almost shivered.

“She’s safe.” Gon fought back the urge to whine, knowing that if Killua had wanted to tell him he would have. He was keeping it from him. The teen tried not to let it bother him, focusing on the one across from him instead.

“Good. I missed this though, just you and me.” Killua just stared, his blood running hot and cold at the same time. Gon wet his lips unthinkingly, the other hand joining the one in his lap to shift anxiously. It was taking most of his self-control not to just throw himself at the ex-assassin. It was taking all of Killua’s not to beat him to a pulp.

As it turned out, Gon’s restraint won out first.

The raven haired teen’s head hit the pillows as the younger one threw another punch at him, sending him into unconscious oblivion once again. Even after being hit, Killua could have sworn that Gon was grinning, despite being knocked out.

For the rest of the night Killua paced, torn between dumping the boy out the window and curling up next to him. It was hours before he settled into the armchair in the corner, eyes dark and weary, to watch as the other slept. He waited until morning came, arms wrapped around his knees to keep him from making rash decisions before they had a chance to speak.

If Gon wanted a conversation, he was going to get it.

_God damn it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for those of you who waited around for this! Updates should become more regular now! As always nice comments will make my day.
> 
> ALSO: I'm looking for a beta reader. I'm finding more and more mistakes in my writing; it's hard to proofread your own work. So if you're looking to beta (and get chapters before anyone else in doing so) please don't hesitate to drop me a line. Ideally, I'd like someone willing to read for HxH and Yu Yu Hakusho, but dreams are just that...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was _not_ where this chapter was going to go, but it went there. Next two chapters should be confrontations, and then maybe some happy after that? No promises; angsty Leopika's seem to come naturally...

When Leorio opened the door, Kurapika was nowhere to be found.

He panicked, hot blooded, immediate cold sweat type panic. The bedroom they shared was completely void of life, the blankets of the bed in the center of the room thrown off to the side in a messy heap. The doctor’s eyes wandered frantically, searching for a sign of the other in the dingy room.

His mind raced as he stood, paralyzed in the doorway. There was no way he could’ve gotten far by himself; he couldn’t even _walk_ , and he was sure he hadn’t pissed the blond off to that extent yet (though it had been close on a few calls). But if someone had helped him, rather, if someone had moved him there were few contenders, meaning-

His thoughts were cut off a he tore through the main room, making sure he hadn’t missed anything on his way in before stumbling back into the bedroom, finding it still empty. There was a small noise on the far end of the room, perking his ears, when the obvious occurred to him. Still in huffed panic, he threw the only remaining door open, pausing only for a moment at the sight inside.

Kurapika was face down on the bathroom floor, legs sprawled at unnatural angles, shaking and breathing rapidly.

Leorio rushed to his side immediately, turning the younger man over and supporting his head. The blond hissed at the movement, pushing weakly at the other’s grip like a petulant child. The one eye that was not covered with bandages narrowed, deepening in color as Leorio shifted to try and pick him up.

“Let me go, Leorio,” the Kurta barked, coughing violently as soon as he did. Leorio ignored the leg that was trying to kick at him, instead pulling the other closer so that his head was supported by his upper arm.

“What were you… never mind. We’re getting you back to bed. You need to stop doing this, Kurapika.” The blond fought the urge to spit at him, since his head was still too far to bite effectively, but settled on scratching at his arm with dull fingernails.

“Put me down. You know damn well that I’m not trying to escape; you can let me do this alone.” Escape? Since when had he become the warden of a prison, Leorio wondered. He sighed, but loosened his grip. Still, he had no intention of letting the other go.

“Kurapika, you’re the most reasonable person I know, so why are you fighting me? You can’t even make it in here by yourself. I’m a doctor. Let me at least get you to-” The noise that the blond made to cut him off was painful for both of them, Leorio understanding the pure, raw frustration that gargled from his inflamed throat.

“I don’t care if you’re a doctor; you’re still Leorio. Will you not leave me at least my dignity?” The older of the two faltered, his heart aching at the way the other seemed on the verge of tears over his temporary disability. The shaking had worsened as Kurapika held himself back, no longer fighting but so very _angry_ , that Leorio couldn’t help but tighten the arms around him for a moment. Only for a moment.

“Fine. Just let me get you there. Let me get you out. I think you opened something when you fell, so afterwards you’ll let me clean you up, okay?” The body in his arms went lax, the open eye growing dull before closing. Leorio would have been frightened at the change if not for the way the fist at his side clenched, strong despite it all.

“Yes.” It was spoken through clenched teeth, but it was a weak plea, and all that Leorio needed. He hoisted the other up, cringing at the way the blond’s broken leg hung heavily, before getting him situated. The Kurta refused to look at him, eye faded, remaining completely unmoving until Leorio left the small room. 

It had come in the form of a blessing that the old man from the medical facility had chosen to live out the rest of his days there, and that he had been kind enough to offer up his residence to the two travelers who, like him, had ventured in from the outside world. Kurapika had been intent on refusing, but Leorio, having two working legs and the ability to stay conscious for more than twenty minutes at a time took the advantage, agreeing wholeheartedly to the arrangement while the other slept. He had, of course, emphasized that they would only be staying as long as it took for the blond to heal enough for them to travel, even offered up his father’s real gold watch as collateral, but the older man had refused, smiling sadly as he explained that homes were meant to be live in, not died in. He’d taken Kurapika there the next day, carrying him while under his last sedating dose. He’d woken up bewildered and afraid, but the doctor had been right there, grasping his hand as he struggled into awareness, telling him that everything was going to be alright.

That was the last time Kurapika trusted him to be cared for, relaxing into the soft touch long enough to fall back into sleep, but waking again to be cold. Distant.

When Leorio was called back in, disdain dripping from his name like poison, he found the other standing over the sink, barely keeping himself up. He didn’t comment on it, just slipped his arm under the other’s legs and carried him back to the bed.

The silence was heavy as the doctor worked, bathing the other with a wet cloth before tending to his wounds. Kurapika didn’t put up a fight, just moved as he had to, letting his eyes close with exhaustion when he deemed it necessary. Leorio took great pains for each of his touches to be gentle, no more than brushing against the other’s soft skin when he had to. If Kurapika noticed, he made no sign of it.

He took care of the other’s abdomen first; the wound had in fact opened, but wasn’t as bad as he expected. It took a little re-stitching, nothing too extreme, but the blond made it a point to glare at him through the entire process. Leorio whispered profuse apologies until the other flicked him on the forehead, muttering something about how he wasn’t the one who should apologize. Half the time, Leorio wasn’t sure if Kurapika was angry at him, or at himself.

The leg was next. It had turned a sickly yellow from the internal bruising, the splint pushing against it unevenly. It had been the best he could do at the time, fashioning a brace out of the medieval wooden casts that completely failed to serve their purpose. Here, he could only do what he could to make the other comfortable, using Nen from time to time to make sure that he was healing correctly. Still, it was guess work without the proper machinery to help him visualize the wound, to draw out where the cracks were and how the bones had settled. Kurapika winced as his leg was moved, Leorio shooting him a sheepish glance as he did, but it was a necessary pain to assess the more damaged areas.

He hesitated when reaching for the other’s face, the Kurta raising an eyebrow at him as he did. The wrappings around the blond’s head had at one time been tight, but after over a week of wear the bindings had begun to wind down around the sides, ends poking out where they had torn. He wavered in using his knife, cutting a single piece of cloth with it, for fear of taking a strand of gold by accident.

The dirtied cloth fell easily, Leorio taking his time in unwinding it. He was less concerned with the strips of cloth than he was with the gauze underneath, which was cushioning the other’s eye. It was terribly swollen when he’d patched the other up, but it had been long enough that it needed confiscation either way. He removed the gauze with slow precision, wiping around the edges with the wet cloth to aid in its removal. He rubbed over the other’s closed eyelid, which was back to a normal size and color, tossing the dirtied square into the bin in the corner. Kurapika opened his eye slowly, blinking with difficulty as he did, before he was able to look at the other unencumbered.

“There,” Leorio murmured to himself, unthinking, swiping his thumb across the blond’s cheek and smoothing his hair out of the way with the other hand.   
“There’s that beautiful face I missed.”

Two years ago, during the weeks that he had been in near constant company of the doctor, Kurapika would have found himself blushing, stammering some sort of claim to ridiculousness. At this, though, he did nothing more than stare blankly. Leorio faltered, pulling his hand back slowly, more thrown by the other’s non-response than his own words.

Oh, what it was like, not to feel.

The doctor’s face fell, hands drawing back as he collected his tools and the waste. He stood, making his way over to the dresser across from the bed where his briefcase resided to deposit what didn’t need cleaning, before disappearing into the bathroom to wash the rest. Kurapika listened with closed eyes as the water ran, turning toward the door as it stopped, but finding no one there. It was another minute before the older man returned, eyes redder than he’d remembered. The blond swallowed roughly as he walked past, without so much as a glance, to tidy the rest of his things.

Driving Leorio to insanity would surely make it all easier. Even so, he found himself regretting each act that pushed the other further away.

“Leorio,” he tested, his voice uncharacteristically meek. This was a moment of weakness, nothing more, his mind whispered as he spoke. You can allow yourself at least one. “You should get some sleep.”

The doctor’s eyes flicked over to the blond as a small hand patted the bed next to where he lay, the younger man trying to move himself over without much success. The doctor shook his head quickly, fiddling with the top two buttons of his dress shirt and pulling the corners from the waistband of his pants. It felt suffocating.

“Just come to bed, Leorio,” he tried to sound aggravated, but all that came out was a sorrowful plea. He cursed himself mentally for the way the words rolled off of his tongue. “It’s cold.”

For a moment, it seemed to render the reaction he had wanted. The doctor’s hand twitched where it stopped near his neck, his eyes downcast. Without looking at the blond, he began to walk over to the edge of the bed, stopping abruptly at the other’s side. Kurapika went to shift, stopping suddenly as something fell into a heap in his lap. It was another moment before the lump of brown registered as a blanket, Leorio’s blanket, the one that had kept him from freezing to death as he slept in the chair by the Kurta’s bedside. Kurapika’s hands fisted in the material as he looked up, genuinely confused for all of a second before the doctor strode toward the door, stopping in its frame.

“I’ll make us a cup of tea. Then you should get some rest, Kurapika.”

He walked into the kitchen, long legs taking him out of sight quickly, before collapsing against the countertop, contemplating the meanings of hurt and confusion. He took his time, stalling in filtering the murky water through the city’s only innovative form of technology, in lighting the fire, in seeking out the old man’s collection of herbs and infusers. Even with the fire alight and the ingredients assembled, it was all Leorio could do to stare, the chill of the evening not touching his sweat slickened skin.

The sound of soft sobs broke through the impasse. Leorio brought the kettle to the burner, hoping its whistling would drown them out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading; nice comments make me smile!
> 
> OH, and for those of you who've asked about it, I finally caved and made a tumblr. Same name (and on ff.n, and on livejournal) so if you want to talk headcanons or whatever really feel free to check me out!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I finally wrote this. I've been looking forward to getting to this scene for a while, so I'm really excited to present it to you all! More angst ahead.
> 
> Nice comments make the author happy! Please, leave nice comments.

When Gon woke up, he found himself alone.

Artificial light was streaming in through the curtains, which had been left open. The room was still fairly dark; even the daytime in the underground felt muted compared to on the surface. He couldn’t have been out for more than a few hours; daytime hadn’t been far off after that last blow to the head.

_Killua._

He shot up in bed, not noticing the blanket that fell into his lap as he did, eyes roaming the room frantically. There was no sign of the other, his smell gone from the air, energy as muted as it always was. Gon’s shoulders slumped, realizing that he had squandered his opportunity. He almost missed the note taped to the mirror as he contemplated his next move in seeking out the white haired teen, collecting the jacket that he had somehow managed to maneuver himself out of and making his way to the door.

The lifts were empty, now that it was daytime, just as empty as the streets. He’d only been in the city for a day, but the stark transformation in its appearance in the twelve hours difference was disorienting. It was too long after reaching the surface, where the light was natural and the air was fresh, that he found the building that Killua’s rare but recognizable script had directed him to.

The skyscraper was still under construction, tarps flapping in the wind as they hung from windowless walls, poles and pipes lined up on un-nailed floors. Gon felt as if his footsteps were lead, echoing through as he bounded each flight of stairs in front of him. A surge of energy came over him, rushing through his veins. It had been too long since he’d felt this, felt so exhilarated at the thought of what might happen. Each time his foot hit down, it brought him a step closer to his friend. A step closer to making things as they were.

He knew that Killua would be at the top. It wasn’t like either of them to do anything halfway.

It had been a calculation, a matter of safety. Thirty eight stories up, the sound of the wind broke through the otherwise silent atmosphere, serving as a near constant reminder of the danger that stepping outside could cause. It wasn’t just that building: the entire district was under construction, leaving them even more isolated than they would have been in the midst of the city’s sleep. If escape was needed, then Killua would be at the advantage, his ability to scale down much faster than the other’s without the advantage of his Nen.

When Gon found him, he stopped in the doorless way, captivated by the sight of him.

Killua was in the center of the room, all possible exits within his line of sight. He stood perfectly still, eyes on his feet. To an outsider, he would have looked relaxed, almost as if he were sleeping standing up, but Gon knew well enough that his muscles were ready for action at the nearest sight of it. He walked forward slowly, as if trying not to startle a wild animal, but needing to close the distance.

“Killua.” The white haired boy’s fingers twitched before he raised a hand, pointing at the floor in front of him.

“Watch where you step.”

If Killua seemed to shine, Gon now knew why. He’d been too preoccupied, too excited at the prospect of seeing the other that he hadn’t noticed the obvious.

Surrounding Killua were thick chains, arranged in a circle around him, about three feet in radius from his point in the center. Listening closely, Gon could hear the air buzz over the occasional bursts of wind, taking to looking at them with a new interest. Lighter chains jumped out of the circle at two points, wrapping around each of the white haired boy’s ankles, giving the illusion of entrapment. Gon swallowed, knowing better, and ground himself to the spot where he stood.

“Guess I don’t have to tell you that they’re live, then.”

Gon stared almost blankly, his mouth suddenly dry. He knew, better than most, how Killua felt about using his electricity against someone he didn’t have to: mainly that he wouldn’t. The precautionary measure threw him off of his axis, the forced distance an unfamiliar term in their interaction. He inched forward out of instinct, getting as close as he could before the hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention. If he’d been able to use Gyo, he’d have seen just how dangerous the air around him was.

If they were going to do this, it was going to be on Killua’s terms.

He almost joked, almost asked what the dramatics were for, but found himself coming up empty, his stomach falling as far as it could in the blink of a second. Killua was still staring down at his feet, the nonresponse to the other’s presence absolutely maddening to the older teen. He’d done so much to be there, so much to be able to explain. All he wanted was to fix things. To apologize.

Even if he didn’t feel particularly sorry. It was hard to, when he felt justified.

“Killua, you… you don’t have to,” he stumbled, the first phrases getting mixed as he spoke them, suddenly feeling as if he were on the defensive. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he settled on lamely, confused and admittedly hurt as to why Killua had to take it so far.

The white haired teen’s eyes lifted at this, for a moment open. Gon almost stepped back with the intensity of the other’s look, sharp and hard, but pained like he had never seen him before. It didn’t last; in a moment his face was schooled in complacency.

“Do you really believe that, after everything?” His first response was to argue, but another look at his surroundings told him how ridiculous that would have been.

Clearly, the other saw him as a threat. He’d just have to prove him wrong.

“Killua, we’re friends,” he said as gently as he could, trying to provide a soft reminder. “I just want-”

“It doesn’t matter what you want.” The Zoldyk boy’s voice was cool and even, as if were reading from a script at his feet. “This isn’t about you anymore. This is me, living without you.” He paused, flicking his eyes in the other’s direction briefly, looking for reaction. “We’re not friends.”

Gon’s hands immediately clenched at his sides, his face twisting in a mix of anger and sadness.

“Fine, we’re not friends. You’re more than my friend, Killua, more than Leo-” He was cut off as sparks flew, jumping violently from the stacked chains less than a yard from him. A stray one hit his arm, stinging slightly as it burned a speck into his already dark skin.

“You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to tell me I’m important. It isn’t your right, Gon. You lost that privilege a long time ago.” His voice was shaking, but his body was steady, a pillar against the barrage of emotions flying around the room.

“But Killua, I-” He stopped abruptly, silence falling over the two. It was the wrong time, the wrong moment. If he was sure about anything, it was that he’d regret it if they came too soon. “I don’t know what to do!” He cried, his voice anguished. It was all he could do to stay standing, not to fall to his knees and just beg the other not to be angry. One of Killua’s hands flew to his hair, pulling at it frustratedly as he tried to regain his calm.

“Leave me alone!” He shouted, his voice rising only for him to bite it back. “Stop following me, stop breaking into my hotel rooms. Don’t you get that I don’t want to see you?”

“I can’t _do_ that Killua! You’re my best friend; you can’t go on without me!”

“Is that what this is about?” He fumed, throwing all of his calm out the glassless window. “ _You_ left me, Gon. How could you even say that?” The other was so angry that he took a step forward, forgetting for a moment where he stood. He was forced back immediately, the shock burning his boot. It served as a reminder of how far from each other they really were, only making him angrier. More determined.

“That’s not true! You and Alluka-”

“Before that!” He was nearly shouting, his hair standing on point as static crackled around him. “What you said, what you did… If you don’t think you abandoned me then I don’t know what that was. How could you, Gon?” 

The older teen almost missed the sizzling that hit the ground next to the white haired one; if not for the slight smell of blood he wouldn’t have noticed that he’d dug his fingernails deep enough into his palm to cause damage. 

“You gave me no choice!” He continued. “What was I supposed to do, after that? We needed time apart- not that you _wanted_ to come with me! I guess it wasn’t enough.”

He’d begun pacing, stuck in his little circle, the chains around his ankles chiming as they made contact with each other. Gon had seen it before, in the wild animals that had been caged by poachers, searching for some way out. This time, though, the caged one had put himself there.

“I moved on, though. I _knew_ that it was worth putting behind us to be together again, you me, Alluka, and Nanika. You three were all I ever wanted.” He took a shaky breath, stopping in the center of the circle again and pinning the other with his eyes. “But _you_. You almost took that away from me. The one thing I asked you to protect, and you almost destroyed it!”

Never before had he seen Killua so angry, so distraught and rabid. More than anything, he wanted to push past the shocks to take the other in his arms, to hold and soothe him until it all just went away. Then there was his pride, nagging at him, telling him that it was his duty to prove the other wrong.

“I was trying to help you, Killua! You weren’t fighting, I thought you might die and-” Apparently it was the younger one’s goal not to let him finish a sentence, because as fast as lightning he was up against the edge of the circle, pressing his face against an invisible barrier that set the two apart. The blue of his eyes stung like ice blades, cold and sharp and deadly.

“IT WASN’T A FIGHT!” 

The outburst seemed to take everything out of him all at once, the boy stepping back to inhale deeply before pacing again. This time was different; Killua was no common animal. He was a panther, trapped behind bars that he chose to stay behind, watching and waiting until the moment they became unnecessary. 

“It was an ambush,” his voice had gotten lower, terrifying. Gon swallowed hard, resisting the urge to step backward. Suddenly, running away didn’t seem like such a bad idea. “You _arranged_ for that, didn’t you? You led them to us.”

“I just,” he stammered, only then seeing where the other was going. “I thought they might catch up to us if we took that one path, that’s all.”

Killua only stared, eyes wide but blank.

“It’s not what you think, Killua!” he pleaded, his awareness heightened by the danger he felt. “They were going to find us, you knew that! I just thought it’d be better to get it over with, to have one more fight just like old times! I knew everything would be alright!”

It was all Killua could do not to step outside the barrier, to wrap his hands around the other’s throat and end him. His pupils were completely dilated, irises hidden behind black. For a moment, he resembled his brother.

“How could you know, Gon? How could you do that? It wasn’t just you and me; they were after Alluka! You don’t even have your Nen; they almost killed my sister!”

“They wouldn’t have killed her,” he whispered, looking away. “That wasn’t the point.”

“Then what was the point, Gon? That you made this decision, one that had _nothing_ to do with you, without telling me? That you risked all of our lives on a hunch? It wasn’t your choice, Gon! It isn’t about you anymore!”

They were both on the verge of something: tears, ripping each other to shreds, _something_. The shaking had spread to Gon, making him feel like a child again, one who had just taken a blow to the face. Breathing hard, they turned back to each other, ready for another round. As ready as they could be.

“I was just doing what I thought was best. Killua should know that.” This time, it was Gon’s voice that was hard, lacking the pleas that he had offered before. The white haired teen’s energy flared, his whole body shimmering like the conduit that it was.

“Best for who, Gon? Not for me, not for Alluka. I didn’t _want_ to fight them. They’re my _family_ , as twisted as they are. I could have killed them,” he shivered at the thought, knowing full well that his father might already be dead by his hands, “I don’t want to kill anyone, let alone my family.”

He didn’t mention Kalluto. He didn’t even think his name. It was too much, knowing that in saving his sister, he had sacrificed his brother. He’d been a child too, back then.

He could only take one of them. He wondered if that meant he’d have to kill the other, eventually.

The older teen bit his lip, seeing how difficult it was for Killua to verbalize what had gone on inside his head. He’d had a plan, he realized, or at least, he’d been making a plan. He’d taken away the time to strategize, by doing what he did, to remove the possibility of armed conflict. Instead, he had left that as the only option.

“I thought it was best for us! For Alluka and Nanika! You said you wouldn’t be able to find somewhere safe for them until it was over. I know you wanted Alluka to go to school and to train, but they were always travelling with us and it didn’t seem like it would end.” He let out a frustrated cry, the emotions that he had been holding back since their first reunion bubbling to the surface. He wanted to hit something, to feel something shatter under his fist. Killua was taken aback by how raw he looked, standing there, half shrouded in shadow and half in the light. Then, he understood.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he heard the words whispered in a deadly tone. _Saisho wa gu…_

“You’re telling me,” he started shakily, his voice becoming as deadly as the memory of the other, “that you’d forsaken us because you were jealous of Alluka?”

Gon stopped.

All movement ceased, down to the shaking of his hands. His eyes failed to widen, heart did not speed up. At those words, he forgot how to breathe.

_No_ , he thought frantically, eyes glued on the other while seeing nothing. _That isn’t right._

He knew that it was. _They knew that it was._

Killua watched him like a hawk as his expression changed, going from violent to shocked to terrified in a matter of seconds. He watched as those dark eyes swirled, turned inward. He saw when the other fell to his knees, hunched over, as if he could no longer hold himself up. For the first time in so very long, he looked again like a child.

The younger teen had seen it once before, so he recognized what was happening as it did, knew exactly what went through the other’s brain as his words were processed. He could hear each silent plea of _No_ and _It’s my fault_ and _What have I done?_ He saw the moment Gon’s heart broke, witnessing in his friend what he’d felt while the other’s back was turned.

He hadn’t looked so distraught since Pitou.

“Gon,” he started, his voice cracking roughly, as if it hadn’t been used. “Gon, stop it.”

The older of the two wasn’t listening, searching his own mind of answers, finally finding them. It all made sense now, all of Killua’s actions, his refusal to tell him where Alluka was, why Leorio had been so distant. How could he not have seen it before? Killua hated him. Killua was _right_ to hate him.

He’d always been selfish, but before, that selfishness had never been the source of his own pain.

The ground rumbled from dozens of stories beneath them, the trembling heightened by the speed of the wind so high up. Black swirled as Gon’s aura took shape, outlined in orange, shaking as his body folded over. Killua watched with horror as tears streamed down the other’s cheeks from unblinking eyes, eyes that were dark and unfocused. The child in his view changed, overlapping images with a broken man, frightened and lost and empty.

Then, without warning, Gon was in front of him.

He didn’t have time to stop him; he didn’t even see the other move. One moment he felt so far away and the next there he was, on the precipice of being burned. Killua stood, frozen to the spot as Gon closed the distance, stepping forward. Stepping over the ring of chains.

The younger boy screamed as Gon’s eyes clenched in pain, his tears evaporating as they fell. He wasn’t touching the metal but the proximity was enough; every particle in the air within the circle had been electrified. The pain of each crackling jolt was enough to kill a normal man, but Gon didn’t let it stop him, taking another step so that both feet were within the ring. Without hesitating, he took another heavy step, his feet barely lifting from the ground, then another, eyes trained on the one in front of him. It was only out of fear that he would hit the metal that Killua didn’t push him back, force him into safety. That, and he was covered in chains himself.

He managed to free himself of his own device before Gon collapsed onto him, but only just. The older boy clutched at him with weak hands, speaking, shouting, whispering the other’s name over and over like a prayer. Desperately, Killua made an effort to move him, pleading with him the entire time, but it was no use: not while Gon had any will in him. With each push to retreat, Gon only held tighter, burying his face in the other’s chest as he shook. As he screamed.

It was only when his awareness began to fade that Killua was able to whisk the other teen into his arms, speeding to the other side of the room away from the charges. He laid the dark haired boy down, panicked as he realized that the hands gripping his shirt had slid away without resistance. Gon’s eyes fluttered, the image of Killua’s face, covered in tears, saying something he could not hear the only recognizable part of his existence.

_It’s because I love you so much, Killua._

He lost consciousness before Killua let out a heart wrenching wail, trying desperately to restart his friend’s failing heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, there's the angst again. Next Chapter should be the Leopika confrontation, then maybe everyone will stop hating each other?  
> Also, the need for a beta is VERY real, so if you're interested let me know. The spelling/grammar errors are being missed when I proofread.
> 
> Nice comments make me smile (also, check me out on tumblr, ff.n, livejournal, etc.)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leopika angst ahead! Enjoy guys, I know some of you have been waiting a while for this update. More Kirugon to come!

He wondered if he’d forget the feel of sunlight on his skin.

It had been days, weeks, a month of walls.

Two weeks had passed within the old man’s home, not that Kurapika could remember much. Leorio had disappeared the day after his outburst, returning late in the day with a bag full of herbs. The Kurta had been wary to say the least when the other explained that they were a natural sedative that grew around the edges of the city, where jungled swamp began, most likely keeping the natural predators at bay. He’d suggested, gently, that he brew them with the blond’s tea to help him with his recovery, as he was finding it difficult to sleep restfully. It was only that he knew his sense was impaired, by the open longing for a touch of skin, and that he needed to return his strength that he agreed, letting the doctor does him twice daily and drifting into blissful unconsciousness. His waking moments were fuzzy at best, but he allowed himself not to care, enjoying the dreamlessness that came with it.

Leorio had prepared for their journey back while he slept; giving the other with a couple of days without the aid of his brew to re-acclimate to full consciousness. Kurapika could feel the stark difference in his condition as the clouds cleared; his mind was sharper, and his body itched to move. The bruising along his chest and leg had darkened, as it would with time, and his leg felt stiff, but more willing to move than it had just days before. Leorio examined him quickly before they left, almost rushed, Kurapika noticed, and informed him that he needed proper care before it atrophied.

The blond had only nodded, keeping himself emotionally distant now that he felt a sliver of control.

He didn’t argue when the other carried him outside, knowing that it was a necessary evil. He was, however, surprised to find a small canoe waiting for them. It was carved roughly, the edges unsanded and sharp, leaving small splinters in the blond’s hand when he gripped the side after being abruptly lowered in. Though the older one didn’t say anything, his face hard as he dragged the boat on hand rounded wheels through the muddy streets of the city, Kurapika knew he had built it. The bandages wrapped around his hands spoke of sleepless nights spent hollowing out one of the large trees nearby, shaping it and cutting away at the sides with his small knife, piece by piece. The Kurta clenched his fist, wood shards and all, at the thought of the other working tirelessly while he slept, helpless. Still, he didn’t speak on the matter, didn’t verbalize his thanks.

Being grateful would have showed that he cared.

The journey was as close to silent as they could make it. Kurapika played the role of lookout, notifying the other of dangerous animals nearby and pointing out edible plants while Leorio rowed, quiet and contemplating. They camped out in the boat, taking watches for sleep, though Kurapika knew that the older one was taking on uneven shares of the work for his sake. Again, he didn’t argue, as focused on recovery as he could be. It took another week, surrounded by dark trees and lurking predators, before they hit recognizable land.

Leorio carried Kurapika on his back from there, mindful of the brace on his leg as he did. The nearest city was a day’s journey, not too far off of the edge of the trees. Kurapika could read every line of relief in the other when they reached the hospital, with its proper physicians and supplies and machinery. He accepted the immediate care that was offered him, being dragged off by doctors for imaging and initial reports, away from the other’s sight. He spoke only when asked a direct question, letting them poke and prod him until he was whisked away for surgery.

The first thing the older man did was pull out his phone, connecting it to the nearest charging unit and flipping through the hospital’s directory. He immediately recognized the name he was looking for, dialing the number, his foot tapping impatiently against the cold tile floor. Practical Medicine Hunters were an unusual subgroup within the Hunter Organization, but did exist. Most of them went by other titles: the idea of a Hunter being a physician not seeming as exotic or dangerous as the other professional types that existed, but they were there nonetheless. Leorio had done his research before seeking out the location that the Kurta had gotten himself stuck in, mainly finding the best care close by. He’d been fortunate enough to discover that the director of the hospital, the one he’d gone out of his way to bring the other to despite the city having four others, was one of the most sought after Practical Medicine Hunters in the business. He left a message with the man’s secretary, a clever lad who had asked for his ID number, and within minutes he was being escorted into a dark, window lined room and handed gloves, being asked if he was planning on scrubbing in on his friend’s procedure.

He didn’t, only watched from the adjoining room as the blond was put under and his chest was cut into from the side, his hand stitching torn out as they went. Another unit worked on his leg simultaneously, something the young doctor had never seen done but knew was possible if they’d removed the blond’s dependency on his own internal organs. He was hooked up to every machine known to man; an artificial heartbeat taking over and redirecting his blood flow, low wave electricity flowing through his nervous system to simulate conscious response when it was needed, tubes extending from his mouth which acted as makeshift lungs while his was being worked on. The young man he had spoken to on the phone snuck into the room he was watching from quietly, checking both of their Hunter’s licenses and having Leorio sign a few papers before handing him a portfolio case, then disappearing as if he had never been there to begin with.

The portfolio consisted of a thin screen, no taller or wider than a novel, which flashed through the other’s scans and blood tests at an alarming rate. Being well versed in what he was reading, Leorio flicked through the files quickly, lingering only on the scans of his chest and leg. The damage to the lung was better than he had hoped, though the other’s ribs would certainly need metal fixings, he noted, scanning the operating room with his eyes until they fell on a tray with metal parts. The images of his knee showed brutal fracturing throughout, but the pieces seemed to be held together well, his Nen stitching having held up despite his inability to visualize what he was working on. For that, he was thankful, watching as the doctors circling the blond’s feet added a screw, but not much else.

It was a quick series of procedures, surprisingly, lasting only around six hours in total. Somehow, Kurapika managed to make it back to his assigned room before Leorio did, the doctor finding him already there upon swiping his key card despite having left surgery at the same time. He lay there, asleep, looking bright, clean, and peaceful. Leorio let himself gaze openly, taking in the sight, before curling up on the cot that had been wheeled in for him and drifting into blissful unconsciousness.

Kurapika woke, just once, his eyes falling on the other, before drifting back to sleep.

The next days passed in a blur of innocuous doctors roaming in and out of the room, nearly insufferable amounts of physical therapy and checks, dozens of cups of coffee, and most importantly of non-interaction between the two. Leorio made it a habit to sleep when the other had a doctor at his elbow, working his way around the halls of the hospital in a wheelchair, then with a walker, and then on crutches. His exercises would be followed by innumerable appointments: meeting with a nutritionist, blood work, daily muscle fiber sampling, and so on. The blond would return hours later, recovering but albeit exhausted, only to drift to sleep directly after eating. Leorio stayed by, sometimes, while he slept, but more often than not found himself roaming the halls to check random charts, or dropping into the director’s office for a chat. Every once and a while, even, he found himself offering his services as an aid when the physicians were shorthanded, happy to earn his keep with labor. More often than not, Kurapika woke to the smiling face of a doctor, but none of them were his.

The days melded into weeks, the blond’s recovery quickening. He was relying only on a single crutch now, walking freely as he pleased. Leorio had taken him from the hospital, though they often made trips for his rehabilitation exercises. The hotel they shared a room in was on the same block as the medical facility, giving the doctor peace of mind that he wouldn’t have had otherwise. Despite the change in scenery, Kurapika found himself just as alone as he had been before, the other’s company rare and heavy in the air. Besides times of sleep, their beds seeming uncomfortably close but the distance palpable, Kurapika lay in wait, just   
him and his thoughts.

It was inevitable, really, with the tension between them so high but no one was willing to speak, that one of them was bound to lose their cool. It had been a test of time, and of patience, but an unwinnable one for either of them. Being apart had been difficult for each of them, in their way, but being together was a hundred times worse. Being together only reminded them that it was bound to end.

He’d been reading calmly and quiet when Leorio entered the room, sitting on his unused mattress and staring at the other with weight in his glance.

“What are you waiting for?” Kurapika said mildly, not lifting his gaze from the volume in his hand. Leorio let his eyes fall to the hands in his lap, but did not loosen the tension in his shoulders.

“You to leave.”   
That had been unexpected. The Kurta lowered the book slightly, looking at Leorio from the corner of his eye. The other didn’t seem to notice the movement.

“Did you really think that I would?” The doctor looked up at this, his eyebrow raised as if the answer was obvious. The blond let his eyes take in the page again, but they did not move across the line of text he had been reading. His ears were much too attentive for his eyes to focus properly. “I’m not fit to leave yet. Perhaps in a week or so-”

“That’s never stopped you before,” the other interrupted, his voice shaken. Kurapika immediately closed the book, marking his page with almost unconscious practice and setting it on the bedside table. Though he gazed openly, the doctor refused to look directly at him, his head turned to the side. Kurapika stared, the sight of the other angry blindsiding him. Though they usually butted heads, this sort of silent frustration was something he knew to be wary of; he hadn’t seen it since the night he’d woken up, and before that…

He didn’t want to think of the “before that.” That argument had displaced him from the other for two years. As much as they hated each other sometimes, he hated more the thought of reliving that spiteful separation.

“What are you saying, Leorio?” The genuine confusion that he was feeling was muffled by his defensive nature, though he had a feeling that the corner they were about to turn was one he’d been careful to avoid.

“If you’re going to do it, just do it already!” He’d raised his voice, but shut his mouth immediately, his jaw clenching tightly as he did. 

“You… you _want_ me to leave.” His voice was bewildered, but it wasn’t a question. A part of him expected Leorio to turn to him, to tell him it wasn’t true, but the other only gripped his hands in each other more tightly.

“No. I never want you to leave, Kurapika, but you always do. You always leave, going off somewhere to get yourself killed. If I had it my way, I’d lock you up like this for the rest of your life.” He trailed off, his voice going soft and face contorting in a pained look. “But what I want doesn’t matter, does it?” He tried to smile up at the other, but it fell flat, too tired and worn.

The blond looked up at him incredulously, unsure how to treat the sudden outburst. Had he been in any other state, he’d have walked out, ignored what was being said to him like he always did. It had certainly worked two years ago. He wasn’t given a chance to, though, as the doctor continued.

“Don’t get me wrong, Kurapika; I’m not telling you to stay. I know that you’ve got this ridiculous plot for revenge and fine, I get that, but you’re going too far.” He stopped, looking at the recovering blond with a gaze that spoke more than words could.

The Kurta could read it all in his eyes

_Your quest is nothing more than a glorified suicide mission. You don’t only hurt yourself when you leave. Your people wouldn’t want this; they’d want you to live. At some point you can’t justify the killing._

He didn’t have to say it for Leorio to know what he’d been hoping, in his last job. He was so much keener than the blond gave him credit for; it didn’t need to be said.

_Hunting Kalluto will do nothing to aid in your goal; it will only make an enemy out of one of your closest friends. Would you kill him if it meant finding the others? Would you kill him if it meant saving your own life? He’s Killua’s brother, Kurapika, don’t you dare hurt that boy any more than you already have; he’s already so damaged… Just like you._

The younger man’s mind swam, all rage and desire for action and incredible suffering. Of course he knew that capturing the boy was a longshot, and perhaps the thought of turning him from the Ryodan had been but an afterthought, but he knew what he was doing. He had to. He needed to survive, to hunt, to make them pay for what they’d done. There were still living members of the original Troupe, and as long as they breathed he wouldn’t have any rest. He couldn’t, it wouldn’t be right-

“I’m not waiting for you anymore, Kurapika. It was different when I thought you could stop, but I… I don’t want you to leave, so I’m doing it myself.”

The blond’s eyes widened as Leorio stood, the last of his resolve in the action, collecting his briefcase as he did. The deafening calm of the last few weeks suddenly faded, replaced with an immediate sense of urgency. Leorio was leaving, kind, caring Leorio, and his patience had run out.  
Kurapika was on his feet faster than he thought it possible to move in his condition, not even wincing as the foot of his injured leg hit the ground gracelessly. He reached for his single crutch hurriedly, the book clattering to the floor as he did. The doctor blinked as his path was blocked by a blur of gold, huffing angrily as he reached out to move him, unprepared for the reaction it brought.

His first instinct had been to reason with the other, but Kurapika knew how much thought and agonizing had gone into the decision, and thus knew it a worthless effort. His second thought was a conjuring of anger; how dare Leorio leave him, strand him while injured, pretend not to care about his wellbeing anymore? The anger was immediately replaced with guilt: guilt for forcing the other into emotionally straining rescues, guilt for having turned up half dead yet again, guilt for using him for healing but never once being honest about why he wanted to see him, never once being honest about why he hated leaving in the first place, never once being honest about how damn hard it was when Leorio was there and warm and safe. Because Leorio was there, he was always there, with the promise to wait for him until he was needed, until it was over, and if the thought of the life he could have, the life , _they_ could have didn’t get him through the more horrible days he didn’t know what he would do. It was never spoken, but he _needed_ Leorio, he depended on him, was tied to him by fate and-

Kurapika’s mind was too busy buzzing with panicked thoughts to register that he had fisted a hand in the other’s shirt, his tie caught between his fingers, and pulled him into a kiss.

It was horrible by any normal standards; Leorio standing stiffly, entirely nonresponsive as Kurapika leveraged him down in a nearly choking hold while keeping himself balanced with the other arm. The blond’s eyes were shut tightly, his lips pressed into a hard line against the other’s, as if he had learned the gesture from children’s storybooks. It lasted for far too long, the seconds ticking by in a seemingly endless rhythm as neither made to move, both too stubborn and shocked from it to do anything about it. It wasn’t until he realized what he did that Kurapika trembled. Leorio didn’t move at all.

Kurapika finally pulled back, his hand sliding away weakly. His eyes opened only for him to immediately regret his actions.

Leorio was entirely unmoved, his face completely blank, eyes open but looking away from the blond. His entire body was taut, as if he had been instructed that movement would result in serious injury, his posture utterly wrong for a man who usually stood so casually. When Kurapika took a step back, he could see that the man’s fists were clenched, the one around the briefcase rattling ever so slightly.

There was no warning when his fist came flying out, the broken cry that escaped from his lips coming belatedly. Kurapika couldn’t help but wince at the sound of small bones cracking as his hand met with the wall, having not bothered focusing his aura into shielding the point. Chips of paint showered the floor under the spot of impact, revealing a hole as he pulled his mangled hand back, shoulders quaking with the movement. Kurapika floundered, never having seen Leorio looking so desolate. So dangerous.

“This,” he began, his voice low and dark, “is why I have to go. You’re reckless, Kurapika. You’re not yourself. You’re acting out because you’re angry and vulnerable, but I can’t watch you do this anymore. I can’t be a part of this.”

He moved to the door, the other making no effort to stop him, entirely shaken by the scene. Leorio stopped with his hand around the knob, almost turning back.   
The Kurta expected him to offer an ultimatum, his usual “call me when you’re done with this”, but nothing came. Winding the tension in his shoulders, the doctor swung the door open, slamming it shut behind him without looking back.

The wooden cane toppled over as Kurapika sank to the floor, wondering how he had gotten so far from the man he used to be, and let himself fall apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember: nice comments make the author smile. and update faster. and do cartwheels and build jetpacks. and stuff.
> 
> Happiness coming soon? Maybe even sexy time? Tune in next time to find out!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING: this chapter contains sexual content which falls within the category of Non-Con. Please be aware of this and read at your own risk.**
> 
>  
> 
> I am so sorry.
> 
> I know I promised a happy chapter, but this was the only way it could have happened, and it took me forever to write it because I honestly didn't want it to. There, _will_ be a happy ending for these two, but it's going to take time to get there, and this just isn't it. So please, be patient with me; the story will be much better if it isn't rushed for the sake of fluff.

He wasn’t sure if he believed in destiny, or in predetermination. If anything, his life had been one of proving fate wrong, of overcoming odds that seemed insurmountable, of moving forward no matter what. Even so, he couldn’t deny that this was where they were headed in almost any iteration of a future he could foresee. This was what he’d been waiting for, whether he’d known if from the beginning or not.

There was a deep, aching pain in his chest. Muddled as he was, it was impossible to tell whether or not the pain was a physical one.

He blinked slowly, the feeling returning to his fingertips in the form of tingling jolts, then shifted, producing a grimace as he did so. The pain was most certainly real, but it was dull, easily overshadowed by his discomfort. Light suddenly poured into his eyes, illumination, and he had to resist the urge to jolt upright.

_Killua._

The sight of the other was the first thing he saw. They were back in the hotel room, their arrangement not unlike before, with Gon reclining on the bed while Killua sat in the armchair nearby. He immediately relaxed, imagining running his fingers through soft white hair. How he wished his arms didn’t feel so heavy.

“You almost died.”

Gon licked his lips, rolling his shoulders experimentally. It was easier to move than he’d expected, though his head was still clearing. Killua was so close, it was blinding.

“It was worth it.”

Something shot through the other, his downcast eyes growing wide and his pupils shrinking back, the white taking over. He didn’t move, tension woven in every fiber of his muscles. Gon smiled at him, somehow elated at the other’s reaction. There was a faint memory of arms around him, arms that held him fast with care. He wasn’t completely unimportant.

“I had to restart your heart.” 

The white haired teen shivered as he spoke, an unconscious reaction to the reminder. Gon’s first thought was to envelop the other in his arms, to tell him that it was all right, but as he moved to sit up he was halted by the ache in his chest. Icy eyes flicked toward him, briefly, before the teen settled into his seat.

“I knew you would.”

He hadn’t planned on running into the other’s field, or on nearly dying, but if there was anything he was certain about, it was Killua’s willingness to save his life.  
Even if he was hated, which he wasn’t sure if he believed, their past was enough to give him that confidence.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Killua said distantly, his eyes seeming to glaze over at a memory that he didn’t speak aloud. Gon’s face turned confused, the insinuation unclear. After a moment of quiet thinking, he figured it was one more piece to the puzzle that he couldn’t entirely remember, when he’d lost his semblance of humanity. Of course Killua had jumpstarted his heart; he’d probably done a hundred different things trying to keep him from death. As far as Killua was concerned, he’d never have to know. Every time Gon had slipped further from life, Killua died all over again. Faintly, like the reminiscing of a dream long past, Gon could remember his friend weeping.

“Killua.” 

The sound of his name broke him from the darkness he was seeing, planting him firmly in his current reality. Gon was alright. Gon was awake. It was time to go. Somehow, his body resisted moving, hearing more in the other’s tone. Even so, he didn’t want to stay. Whatever was to follow would be a battle. It always was.

Gon stopped his wiggling, laying still and taking in the curve of his once-friend’s neck. He exhaled slowly, pushing the thought of burying his face there away and instead keeping his hands by his side. It took a surprising amount of effort. Killua was near enough to touch.

The want was unbearable.

“I love you, Killua.”

The electric boy didn’t even blink.

“Since when?”

“Since always.”

“Liar.”

Gon went quiet. Killua had strangely relaxed, his eyes still wide and shot to the side, but his body completely at ease where he sat. He’d anticipated this, the black haired teen realized, he’d known what he was going to say. He’d know if he was being truthful.

“No,” Gon said slowly, sitting up the rest of the way and letting his legs hang from the side of the bed. “I’ve always _loved_ Killua, but not like this. Not until you were gone.” He chose his words carefully, taking uncharacteristic steps not to imply which of them had left. He didn’t want to argue over it anymore.

He noticed when Killua’s hand clenched tightly around the arm of his chair, the veins sticking out. He didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to know. It made being angry so much more difficult. Gods, was he angry.

“It’s not okay.” The words were foreign on his tongue, the first time he’d voiced them. “What you did isn’t okay.”

They burned his ears, but he let the words sink in.

“I know.” He swallowed heavily, his fingers digging into the comforter under him, shifting as he did. “But I love you.”  
In an instant Killua was standing, arms stiff at his side, but he didn’t make to move. Instead, he just shook, all hurt and anger and something.

“It doesn’t matter.” He said as if he were trying to convince himself, cold but unsteady. His arms twitched, the movement the first sign of serious discomfort. It was then that Gon jumped up, knowing that the other was about to flurry into a speech about leaving before doing so, to preface it with a warning that he was not willing to listen to.

“It does.” He clasped his hand around the other’s arm, tight enough to keep him in place but purposefully gentle enough to be noticed. For the first time Killua looked at him.

His eyes weren’t as sharp. Rather, they showed Gon something that he’d rarely ever seen reflected in them. Fear.

And there it was, the physical contact, the closeness, the way Gon made him afraid that his anger would become nothing more than superficial in the face of his words. The fear that he’d forsake his sister, or at least it felt that way, over the small, infinitesimal fluttering of his heart. The terror at it, at forgiving Gon for something unforgiveable, for letting him be more important than Alluka, because no one was. No one. Not even Gon.

“It could.” 

Gon amended, pulling slightly at the other. He was entirely captivated by the whirlwind that showed in the white haired teen’s eyes, but it didn’t stop him from noticing the smaller things that had escaped him. How, at such close range, he could see how Killua had grown taller, centimeters taller than he. How the light caught the small earring that hid in his cartilage, tiny enough for him to have missed it before. How his breathing had hitched, surely at his touch.  
But then Killua pushed back, trying to break the contact, and the moment was broken.

There was a struggle, Killua trying desperately to pull himself away to escape the suffocation of the room, while Gon worked just as hard to keep him there. The dark haired boy had the other’s hands in his, spread apart as they wrestled, Killua yelling for him to stop at the top of his lungs while Gon repeated a mantra of his name, as if it would ground him. Killua’s eyes widened as Gon tried to press his forehead against the other’s, something that should have been a calming gesture but only caused him panic. He flailed, with contrived effort not to hurt Gon after having saved him. And, of course, Gon used that weakness to his advantage.

It was with all of his stunted strength that he flung the other back, twisting so that he fell back against the bedspread. Killua tried his best to flee but Gon was there before he could, climbing on top of him. Killua hit at him weakly, more afraid of actually hurting him than of what the other could do to him. It was no surprise when Gon intercepted his hands, pinning them down with his weight.

Even after everything, he wasn’t about to let it go.

“Killua, I love you.” The other fought back, Gon almost losing his balance over him as he did, but he held fast.

“Shut up!” Killua spat back, turning his head to the side to avoid the other’s gaze. Gon’s eyes were fiery. “Just stop!”  
But the other had only just begun.

“You said it too, back then,” he pushed, shifting to hold the other’s legs down as he began to kick. He was nothing if not persistent. “You told me. Tell me now.”

The white haired boy let out a strangled cry, pushing back with real vigor this time. Gon held fast with his whole being, trapping him. Keeping him caged. He tried not to let if phase him as moisture collected around the former assassin’s eyes, to keep from loosening his grip in favor of softness.

“It doesn’t matter,” he choked, his whole body writhing as tears streamed over the bridge of his nose and off to the side. “It doesn’t matter so stop.”

He was begging now, pushing halfheartedly as he tried to hold in tears that he’d refused to shed, tears for a love that would never come to fruition over stupidity and selfishness. He shook horribly, coughing, while Gon aimed at his heart and tore it out with his teeth.

“Tell me it’s not true, then. Tell me you don’t love me.” Gon leaned forward, pressing his face against the other’s, which was still turned to the side. Killua went deadly still, his arms jerking a couple of times as they were held down. The dark haired teen’s voice cracked as he spoke again, and this time it was his turn to shake. “Or tell me you do. Just tell me. Tell me how you feel, Killua. Tell me.”

He needed to hear it, one way or another. He needed for Killua to say it. The former assassin had never been one to express his feelings openly. It was about time that changed.

“I hate you,” Killua managed between sobs, his voice breaking as he did. The tears wouldn’t stop now that they’d started, as if trying to purge everything from within. Gon’s hands clenched around him, dull nails digging into his skin. “It isn’t right. Just let me go.”

Gon pressed against him harder, eliciting another choking noise from the other. Killua growled up at him, trying to shake him off, but to no avail.

“But you love me.” He cried, pulling back just enough to look at the other, who was blinking madly between falling drops. “Tell me.”

Gon breathed deeply, clenching his jaw tightly. Being so close to Killua was intoxicating, his smell surrounding him. His skin felt impossibly soft under his fingers; it took all he had not to lean back down and bury his face in the other’s hair. His restraint had almost completely faded.

“Gon.” The word barely made it past his lips as he turned his face back, pleading. “Don’t.”

He might as well have told the sun to stop shining or the Earth to stand still, for Gon didn’t hesitate in leaning down to capture the other’s lips. It was a vulgar kiss, punctuated by Killua’s tears. They didn’t stop the other, despite wetting his face as he pressed as close as he could, trying to savor every last bit of the one beneath him. Like Gon’s heart, Killua’s mind short circuited, his ability to think drowned out by the sheer intensity that he was feeling.

Gon let go of one of his hands when Killua tried to turn his face away, grabbing him by the chin and forcing him back within kissing distance. With his newfound freedom, Killua struggled between ripping the other off of him and pulling him closer, his hand tangling uselessly in black hair, yanking without known purpose. Their teeth clashed as the former assassin made an uncertain move, either kissing back or leaving a bite, neither of them was sure. For a moment, all that was clear was that Gon was there, and that at some point he would have died to have felt those lips caress his. A lifetime ago, he’d been fighting off dreams of the way he tasted.

There were seconds of clarity, mixed in with the angry need that flooded between the two, seconds in which Killua realized just how horribly wrong it all was. When the realization hit, he fought back, trying to grasp onto the memory of his sister, terrified and covered in their blood. Gon never let it last long, the feel of his hot breath against the other’s neck making him shiver, the way he set his tongue against skin he’d never known was sensitive driving him past the point of sanity. For every push he served to try to remove the other, he found himself winding his arms around his back, allowing the capture, killing his will.

There were only two options: run or be devoured.

In some sick way, the fighting gave him some justification for the desire, as if his failure in escaping wasn’t intentional, was understandable so long as he didn’t just give in. For every painful kick he served the other, Gon would pin him down again, letting a hand trail up his inner thigh as he did. After each bite, the raven haired Hunter would slip his tongue into Killua’s panting mouth, stealing what remained of his breath. When Killua managed to flip the other onto his back, seeming shocked at the brief victory, Gon kept the momentum up, slamming the other against the mattress so hard that he was momentarily stunned. He shed both of their shirts while the pale one floundered, his vision littered with stars, before licking his tears away in long, languid strokes.

He stopped fighting altogether when Gon moved over his bare chest, suckling and biting harshly down untouched white, leaving angry red circles in his wake. It was too much, too unreal to be actually happening. He dissociated as Gon pulled his belt away, the faraway state of his mind leaving his body limp and at the other’s discretion. It was too late to stop it, his own voice whispered as Gon removed his trousers, too late for him not to hate himself for what was being done. He wondered, in his haze, if he’d ever be able to look his sister in the eye again. If he’d ever be able to see her without this moment creeping up on him. He wondered if this meant she deserved to kill him.

He’d wait until she was capable, then perhaps he’d do the job himself.

Killua couldn’t help but cry out, returning to the room as Gon took him in his mouth without warning. He threw his head back, hands gripping in the blankets while his legs spread of their own accord at the entirely overwhelming sensation. It felt like he was drowning, the way his whole body seemed to want to flail, the way his throat closed and ceased all airflow as Gon bobbed his head. He’d never felt anything like it before, the heat and teeth and tongue, the way his entire being seemed to exist solely because of the tension pooling in his lower region. He’d never thought about this, never imagined it, never even touched himself to more than a vague shadow of what he felt for his friend, and it was a hundred times more extreme than that abominable act. His back arched as he writhed, a keen whining sound filling the air only for him to realize that it was him, eyes clenching shut for as long as he could keep them like that before having to look, needing to look. When he did, it was his undoing, Gon staring up at him determinedly as he took him to the base, swallowing as he buried his nose in tiny white curls.

He cried when he came, more a reflex than a reaction. The tears had been there from the beginning, but the intensity with which Gon finished him pushed him past the brink of holding back; liquid ran down his face as it filled the other, the sound breaking from his throat as startled as it was broken. It was a moment before his stiff muscles were able to relax, and another before Gon released him, taking care in not scraping his teeth along the other’s length as he pulled away. The dark haired teen swallowed roughly before his tongue darted out to clean the tip of the younger one’s still sensitive head, causing his whole body to jump in an uncomfortably aftershock.

The shaking didn’t set in until Gon moved up his body, hovering over him like a beast that had cornered its prey. Killua refused to look up, he couldn’t, not with the way his heart was spiraling out of control. It was all wrong, all so wrong, how had it gotten so wrong? He couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on a proper rationalization with Gon so near. Still, it was too late to run. Much too late.

“I love you, Killua,” Gon whispered as he bent down, placing a sensual kiss to the sensitive skin below the white haired boy’s ear, moving his hair aside with the arm that wasn’t propping him up as he did. At the touch, any hope that Killua may have had of escape shattered, his hands coming to cover his face as he let out a broken sob.

Rather than push Gon away, he curled in on himself, exposed, covered in sweat and semen, and wept until he passed out from exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading, and for your patience with this story. Next chapter should have a more IC Kurapika, so keep a look out for it (probably over the weekend).
> 
> I'm sorry updates are taking so long; I've been doing some freelance work on the side that's taken up a lot of my time. Feel free to contact me if you have any questions about what that means, or if you're interested in making a request.
> 
> Also: thank you guys for over 1100 hits! I am so thrilled that people are reading this horrible horrible thing; honestly, the kudos and comments make my day so much better each time!
> 
> As always **nice comments make the author smile But, really.**
> 
> Find me on tumblr, livejournal, and ff.n, all the same name.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and happy Leopika (or not so happy, in this case). 
> 
> Sorry that updates have been slow to come; my other writing gigs and work have been getting in the way, but I hope to get more up soon. I've also got a couple more Yu Yu Hakusho fics coming, so if you're waiting on those, they're in the works!

He hadn’t felt so empty since he’d held Pietro in his arms. Dead.

Leorio had been many things in his life. He’d been young and full of a love for life, flying through it with an empty stomach but an imagination full enough to make up for that. He’d been headstrong, taking the Hunter’s with his only possessions stuffed into his briefcase. He’d been studious, devoting his every waking second to a dream that was inches from his grasp. He’d been ardently, passionately in love with the most intelligent, sensitive, self-made warrior he’d ever laid eyes on.

If anything, he’d lived his life with a steadfast determination, a faith in himself and in those he cared about that pushed him to his limits, drove him to his best. 

He lived to be strong, for himself and for others. He lived for his love.

 

_He lived for vengeance._

 

It had been such a very long time since he’d felt like he’d failed someone the way he did now.

He’d gone back to his hometown after leaving the city. It had been the only thing that felt appropriate, with the way things had gone. He’d walked the streets that he used to play as a child, feeling the heat of the sun penetrate through his heavy suit as the sand ruined his leather shoes. This time, he’d forgone his traditional journey to the local bakery on his way in, not stopping to distribute bread to the children who would flock to his feet. He was much too tired for charity, much too complacent for kindness. Empty.

 

_The feel of chains around his skin was soothing, a reassuring reminder of the power that he held in his hands. They had tangible weight, balancing him when nothing else could. Their edges bit hard when he twisted, reminding him that even his own weapons could harm him. When they pierced flesh, he felt them tug at his heart. He liked the way they hurt. The way they rattled like the song in his blood. Feeling them was the closest thing he knew to coming home._

 

The apartment above his family’s old home, which was no more than the first floor of one of the town’s run-down buildings in the main district, was empty when he arrived, as if it had been waiting for him. He entered at dusk, sunlight on his heels as he closed the creaky door, a breath leaving him that he didn’t know he had been holding. A fine layer of sand seemed to cover everything, the sheets that had been thrown over the few pieces of furniture tinted a dusty beige at his long absence. Everything was just as he’d left it the last time, two years ago. He’d planned that journey with a different purpose than it had served; he’d planned on taking it with the other. Instead, he’d taken it alone, with the image of the other’s back lurking in his mind. With another infinitesimal sigh, he sought out a broom, opening the windows to relieve the staleness of the air while he purged the place of the outside.

He was thankful that the other’s presence had goaded him into rest; he couldn’t remember the last time his body had moved so well without the aches and pains of a shouldered burden. He knew that in part it was due to the metal fixings woven throughout his insides, but chose not to care too deeply. What was more appropriate, than to be a man of flesh and metal? It was as real as his chains, the binding holding his body together, like a condition for living. Like his chains, they only made him stronger.

He tried not to think too much as he lit the oil lamps, a better supplement to the main room’s single fading lightbulb. There was little in the place to keep him sustained without having to wander in search of food and other amenities, but darkness was creeping up on him more rapidly than he’d remembered and the stalls had long closed up for the day. He hadn’t eaten, couldn’t remember the last time he had, but it didn’t seem important. Nothing seemed important here, in a place that reminded him of desolation and heartbreak. It hadn’t always been that way- he’d loved his hometown despite its shortcomings, but bitterness was the mistress of the lonely. He couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t, lonely, couldn’t pretend that the stinging in his chest had faded into an aching numbness that threatened to spread to his mind and soul if he didn’t get it under control soon, but that was the nature of grief. This had become his place for grieving, his sanctuary of desolation. He would take advantage of that, at least, for the night.

 

_Kalluto wasn’t the only change in the lineup; it had been far too long without their proper master for them to choose to sustain themselves without adding new ranks. The last one to join had defected after a few months, thinking himself either too good to be filling the highest numbered slot or realizing that there was no room for advancement amongst the originals which still remained. Whatever the case, he’d managed to leave without being killed, the spider tattoo on his back still fresh but now meaningless, his thirst for blood overcoming all else. It was almost as if Feitan had planned it, the way they’d just happened to be in the same city when the recruit decided to jump ship. He’d known, of course that he was there, their eyes had met from across the rooftops of buildings, but it was no more than taunting. There was nothing the blond could do without luring one away, so with a careless wave of his hand he had practically granted him permission to take this one, a gift perhaps. It only served to enrage the other all the more, but he was outnumbered, under-strategized, and chose to accept what he was given. Perhaps he could track the others through him, as they were long gone by the time he found their hide out._

_So he hunted him like an animal._

 

The night was sleepless and hot, the sound of insects resonating in the stagnant air. The harder he tried to keep his mind from the things that had come to pass, the more difficult it was for him to drift into a peaceful sleep. And why should he, he wondered as the memories crept back up with an added flavor or dead false hope. This was his time to wallow. He was going to do a job of it.

He thought about the argument that had brought him here the last time, how he had expected things to go differently. In truth, the coincidence that he claimed had placed him close by when the blond had called him had been no coincidence at all; rather, he’d used his resources as a well-respected doctor and Hunter to track the other down, working with high profile clients for a time despite his desire for placement elsewhere. It had been circumstance that led Kurapika to call him, and by circumstance he meant his incredible stupidity. There had been another fight, one he could not win. It was an act of mercy that the members he’d been fighting against let him live. The blond hadn’t quite seen it as such.

The difference was, he’d thought it was enough to make him stop, to see reason. Leorio had done everything he could to patch the other up, holding him hostage in his hotel room with an endless supply of room service and care. Kurapika had seemed willing enough to stay, for the first time since they’d been forced together for the sake of the Exam, and it had given him an opportunity he had been far too keen to take.

He’d wanted Kurapika to come with him, to see the place he had buried his friend, to share his past with him.

He tried to tell the other how much he cared. He tried to express how he wanted to share in his pain. Instead, Kurapika had seen it as an attack. He’d left.

 

_He’d tracked him to an abandoned building, more like led him there, but what did it matter when the man was going to die?_

_He was a Transmuter, his Nen steeped in heat and frustration and fury. It was a pastime of his to start fires, focusing his aura into something highly flammable before letting it catch, his enjoyment coming in watching the panic that his flames caused from afar. It wasn’t the only trick up his sleeve; he was best as a backup in combat, using his abilities to cause explosions from afar while his comrades took to the face to face fighting. He’d been recruited in great part for his accuracy, using small, controlled explosions at planned intervals to break through the more technological of targets. He’d been too volatile to stay under the control of the gang, pulling his own jobs whenever he felt like it and leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. Kurapika had watched as the last village burned, arriving too late to do anything but put out the fires and look for survivors. There were few, but the presence of one alone meant that he was too sloppy to be taken seriously by the spiders._

_But not for Kurapika._

 

His lips tasted of deadened dreams.

He’d been in love for so long he couldn’t remember what it was like not to be. There wasn’t a moment that he could pinpoint, when it happened, just flashes of a past in which he knew who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. That, and memories of the other, walking away from him. He always seemed to be doing that. Walking away.

He’d been ready to profess his feelings when the floor had fallen out from under him, when the blond had snapped and screamed of how his life wasn’t worth living unless he’d tasted the blood of those who had killed his family. Everything Leorio had said was in earnest, his wishes for the other to live for himself, his desire for him to be able to find his own way in the world without having to kill, the way he wanted nothing more than to give him the life he’d never been able to have. It had all gone wrong, somehow, when words of adoration turned sour.

He’d thought the other was lost to him forever then, when he’d disappeared into the sandy land of his past. He’d been given one more chance, only to walk away from it.

 

_There was nothing highly flammable in the building; Kurapika had been thorough in his check: no drywall, no insulation, nothing that could exacerbate the situation. It helped that there were chains all around, hanging from the ceiling and lining the floors, that he could use to his advantage, tricking him into misjudging him as a Manipulation. It proved not to matter, not after the initial strikes; he’d been easy to lure and easier to capture._

_He made less of a mess to bury._

 

Being kissed by Kurapika had hurt more than the years of wanting to kiss him. It had been wrong. It had been forced. It had brought tears to his eyes that he’d refused to shed, like the love that would never be returned.

He wasn’t sure what the other was thinking, when he’d done it, but he knew that it wasn’t what he’d hoped for. In all of the dreams he’d had of kissing the other it had been done through streaming tears, both of theirs, as they let go of all that they had shouldered in the years before, everything that they had wanted to share and carry for each other but couldn’t, wouldn’t let each other. It had always held a sort of purity, the catharsis that came in such a heartfelt embrace, but it never lasted. He’d always woken up after that, his mouth feeling dry and his eyes wet around the edges, sheets crumpled in a pile next to him from where he’d tried to curl around an imaginary lover. 

It never went further than that, not in his dreams or his reality. Just lips touching and cheeks wet with emotion. But this time he hadn’t cried. Instead, he’d screamed.

There was nothing he could do but stare up at the ceiling, eyes wide, wondering if he’d done the right thing in leaving.

 

_He couldn’t stand the stench of blood, made worse by the fires that heated the room as the other struggled against that which bound him, failing altogether. His physical strength was too weak in the forced state of Zetsu, making him no match for the Chain Jail in which he was placed. The thief’s bones crunched as Kurapika landed a hit to his arm, the shattering sound it made altogether sickening. Still, he didn’t give a coherent answer when asked what the Troupe’s new goals were, nothing more than bloodcurdling wails and attempts at manipulating his non-existent aura._

_Another punch, another cry. The chains around him tightened as he flailed, raising his arms so that they were perpendicular to his body, a metal crucifixion. It reminded him of their number one, so he sent a particularly hard blow, directly to his stomach. The man began to heave, blood dripping from his lips mixed with bile. The smell was a reminder of a burial he’d preformed at too young an age. This time, it was him crying out as his fist flew forward, ribs cracking under the force._

_Again. And again. And Again._

_The smell, the sticky wetness, feel of life crumbling at his touch. He couldn’t keep from screaming._

_And again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr, ff.n, and livejournal (all the same name). Requests are always welcome!
> 
> Don't forget to leave a comment if you like what you're reading! It means a lot to the writer, and helps get the inspiration flowing more quickly!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning** : This chapter begins where Chapter 11 left off. If themes of non-con and/or suicide are potentially triggering, please do not continue. All others read at own risk.
> 
> **Important Note on Updates** :  
> So, though I know my updates have not been as quick and consistent as the beginning chapters, I regret to inform you that they will not be increasing in pace anytime soon (though there are still a number of chapters to this story!). Between other writing work, my day job, and the anticipation of another move, it isn't viable for me to post weekly updates. Please note, _this is not a threat of hiatus_ , but with the amounts of comments per chapter dwindling, I'm not going to kill myself over writing this. Unless I get a particularly vocal response, please be patient. If you like what you're reading, let me know. Believe it or not, it does encourage faster updates. (note: posting the word 'update' is counterproductive- I say this because I'm tired of seeing it in my inbox)
> 
> Thanks, you're all lovely.

His consciousness bubbled to the surface, dark and clouded, swirling deceit and hopeful rays of light through a heavy filter. Shadows swam in his vision, or in what he lacked of vision, causing a fear he did not believe he could possess. He wanted to move, wanted to reach for the release of the edge, but in a sudden panic he realized that he did not know which way was up.

He was drowning.

His eyes opened as he understood that it was only sleep, breaking the illusion as blue as dark as black shattered with the incoming light. He needed no time to adjust physically, his body attuned to the most extreme of changes, but his mind was another story. With the onslaught of awareness came the inevitable return of memory, the vision of where he lay, the sound of breathing whispering against the skin of his neck.

Worst of all was the warmth, wrapped around him like chains.

He shivered as a kiss was pressed behind his ear, clamping down on all other reaction, his eyes wide but unseeing. The flood of emotion that threatened to push through to the surface plateaued, but he didn’t allow it out, focusing his will on how he wished to feel rather than how he did feel.

Cold. Distant. Detached.

The body next to him wiggled, giving him a chance to turn onto his side, facing away from the one holding him. The dark haired teen didn’t seem affected; he snuggled closer but made no attempt to tighten his grip. Likely, he didn’t know the alarm that the ensnarement was causing. If he did, he’d have certainly pushed harder.

Then, by some luck the arms pulled back, shifting the mattress enough for the white haired one to tell he’d rolled over onto his back. There was no doubt that he was awake, he’d never moved so smoothly in his sleep before, but the movement implied a lack of worry in his demeanor. It was a good thing, Killua tried to tell himself as he slid toward the edge of the bed, moving at an uncommonly slow pace to sit up but keeping his back to the other. Worry would only cause more problems.

Though his mind raced for the right words to say, words that would not cause pain to either of them, he knew what had to be done. He was in far too deep for anything else. If Gon denied him this, he’d deny him life. His life.

If he’d deserved anything in this life, it was to die.

“Hey, Killua.” His trek through morbidity was cut short as a voice too happy for its own good rang out, not seeming to notice how the other kept his face from sight or how the muscles of his bare back jumped at the sound. “Let’s go on an adventure. I want to visit the top of the world with you. Just me and Killua.”

He spoke like he were reciting the memories of a happy dream, wistful and hopeful all at once, probably staring up at the ceiling with arms outstretched and bright eyes. Killua didn’t turn, only cocked his head to the side as he listened. He swallowed hard, trying without sound to make his voice presentable, to keep it from cracking. It was painfully easy; he’d had years of practice switching the pain to numbness.

“Okay, Gon.”

The raven haired teen sat up immediately, beaming at him. He didn’t let the stare bother him, his nudity so etched into his state of being that eyes on him no longer mattered. Either way, he was skinned.

“I know exactly where we should go.”

Gon made a questioning noise, not unlike the whine of a puppy. He didn’t see how Killua gazed at nothing, eyes unblinking and small. Instead, his focus was on the way his hair curled around the nape of his neck. He wanted to move it aside and press kisses along his hairline. His fantasy was brought to an abrupt halt.

“We’re going to see Alluka,” the former assassin spoke, his words slow and clear as he turned round to meet the other’s eyes with deadened ones. “And you’re going to apologize for what you’ve done.”

 

 

He didn’t take him to Alluka directly - for obvious reasons.

Instead he made the call, setting up a meeting place not too far from where she was located, but far enough that travel would be involved for all of the attending parties. Though she was highly capable of taking care of herself, he still had worries over her wellbeing. It was this nervousness that led him to ask the favor of her part time caretaker. That, and his sudden, unexplainable desire to see the doctor as soon as possible.

If there was anyone he’d trusted with his sister’s safekeeping, it was Leorio.

The troublesome part about being tracked by a family of incredibly talented assassins was that every move one made, whether in an isolated countryside or under the cover of a populated metropolis, when push came to shove, there was always a paper trail of some sort. It was impossible to move without compromising one’s identity, even those which were created for the sake of travel. Purchases were easy to track, making people easy to find. All it took was one slip up, one name on an email account from the wrong terminal in a café, one ticket paid in cash by an anagram of Zoldyk, one small text message for the entire scheme to be a bust. Invisibility was not easy, especially with the temptation that was a Hunter’s license.

That was the beauty of hospitals; they kept immaculate records. Every scrape or bruise was neatly filed away, accessible by any computer with a half competent hacker, their systems advanced but in terms of medical technology rather than security. In a hospital, anonymity was entirely unheard of, impossible at best, and the perfect environment for creating an identity that had never existed to begin with.

Under Leorio’s careful advice, Killua had made sure she was a well-documented resident of one such facility.

Selecting an identity for her had been easy, if not for circumstance. There were a number of patients to choose from, all of whom were recently deceased, it was only a matter of choosing the right match. The answer was simple once presented with it: the girl had been sixteen at the time of her passing, on hormone therapy for a particularly aggressive invasive tumor on which radiative treatments were proving more damaging than helpful. Though in reality it had proven futile, with a few edits in the paperwork the story changed into a tale of miraculous recovery, all at the hands of talented physician Leorio Paladiknight, who was known for his work on those such illnesses. The hospital’s director had been instrumental in their plot (she’d been what Leorio had referred to as an “old friend”, though Alluka had speculated that old flame was more like it). It was her brilliance that allowed the girl with two souls to live so comfortably in a small wing of her own, though it was far from empty. After fights and consideration, Alluka and Nanika had agreed to stay put for the next few years, but only as long as their file dictated they would have to “recuperate.” In the meantime, they kept themselves busy around the various wards, doing everything within their power to grant the wishes of children who hadn’t quite made the recovery that they did. Everything, that is, short of revealing themselves.

Their agreement had been partially coaxed out by the director herself, also a Practical Medicine Hunter, who agreed to train them in Nen when she wasn’t on call. That enticement had been too good for the girls to pass up (as they’d become rather attached to her during the emotional rollercoaster that was their rehabilitation), and they’d agreed wholeheartedly. Killua had stayed around for as long as he deemed safe before vanishing to the other side of the world, testing the limits of his family’s vendetta. With the quiet that he’d received since then, he hoped the meeting would turn out safe.

Still, he wasn’t about to do it on his own.

The hospital was just short of equidistant from each of their locations when he made the call; he and Gon were a couple of continents over while Leorio only had one major land mass to cross to get to her. He’d been on a trip of his own at the time, but had been more than willing to cut it short in order to collect Alluka. It would take him about the same amount of time to reach the hospital and then to backtrack to the rendezvous point as it would for the others to journey straight there.

Killua didn’t ask about Kurapika. From the way the doctor answered his call, he already knew what he’d have been told.

The journey was difficult at best. In quite the reversal of style, which the other had expected with a certain amount of chagrin, Gon pushed for physical contact in an arguably needy way, using every opportunity appropriate (and sometimes not) to display his affection for his reclaimed friend. That is, until the neutrality that Killua was exhibiting began to sink in. After that, he backed off some, delving deep into his own thoughts. Every so often, he’d ask what he should say to the youngest of them once they arrived, but Killua had only looked at him blankly and he realized that it was something he’d have to figure out on his own.

The rest of the trip had been a mixture of unsettling quiet and nervous, one sided conversation.

He hadn’t told Leorio much, just that he wanted to see his sister and needed him to make it happen. The lack of information had been purposeful; firstly, if anyone was listening, the less words exchanged the better. Secondly, he’d been unsure how to explain the situation without making the other worry, so choosing not to had been the obvious choice. Still, he couldn’t help the anxiety that built up upon their arrival, seeing what Leorio would do or say when he saw him and Gon together.

As it turned out, Leorio could read him better than he thought.

They’d chosen a location within the network of hospitals connected to the one Alluka resided in as a matter of safety; her records would show a voluntary transfer for a few days as a mental health break, a positive change in locale. Anyone possibly watching the paperwork would see it as a normal protocol for someone cooped up inside for extended periods of time, as it was with real patients who were well enough for travel, and wouldn’t set off any red flags that a sudden disappearance might. Leorio, as a visiting physician within the network, had the proper authorizations for the move without having to jump through hoops, making it a smooth transition from picking her up to arriving at the meeting place.  
The facility itself was breathtaking, made with tempered glass walls along the outside for a panoramic view of the river that came down from the valley, giving the impression of being outdoors at all times. Alluka was in her glory, having arrived a day before expected and exploring the properties’ gardens and stables, spending her free time in the on-site petting zoo that was meant to soothe the residents. Between the seamless dynamic with nature and the amenities of a care facility, it couldn’t be denied that the mountainside center was a place of healing.

Even amongst the peacefulness that the place brought, at the sight of them, Leorio stiffened.

Alluka was around the corner, sitting in the hallway and enjoying the view when they arrived. Though her training was going well, she still wasn’t used to sensing auras in everyday situations, giving the boys a chance to enter the building without her noticing. For that, Killua was grateful; the last thing he wanted to do was surprise her with a visitor that might not be welcome. From the look that the older man gave him, scrutinizing the forced closeness between them through narrowed eyes, she was not the only one who’d have an opinion on that matter.

Gon’s footsteps slowed and Killua’s picked up as they entered the main visiting room, which had been cleared out for the purpose of their meeting. The white haired one didn’t stop until he was invading the doctor’s personal space, the sight of him drawing him in like a magnet. His halt was sudden, as if waking up, but Leorio didn’t hesitate in pulling him into open arms. Killua accepted the embrace, but did not return it, his arms hanging limply by his side as his face was buried in the other’s shoulder. All the while, the doctor stared at the dark haired teen across the room, terrified at the prospect that his assumptions were correct. Gon stared back, face uncharacteristically empty. Leorio tightened his hold on the other, then let go, his discomfort showing in every line of his long form.

“Gon,” the younger of the two called, looking over his shoulder at the other. “Wait outside for a minute.” The dark haired Hunter started to protest, but clamped his mouth shut quickly before walking back out the way they came. If anything, he seemed to be taking the situation seriously. As soon as he was gone, Leorio turned to the former assassin with questions in his eyes.

“Killua…”

“How’s she doing?” The doctor seemed less than pleased at the evasion, sticking the teen with a look before moving on begrudgingly.

“She’s fine. Likes the hospital more than anyone thought she would. We’ve got a terminal case on the third floor who’s smitten with her.” He watched as a white eyebrow went up, waving it off. “Calm down, big brother; I don’t think she’s noticed. She’s not the one I’m worried about, though.” There was no teasing animosity in his words, a trait that the other was beginning to miss in him. He looked up at the other tiredly, noticing the underlines of exhaustion in his face and eyes. The kindred feeling was enough to keep him from lashing out defensively.

“Just don’t leave.” He said it more softly than he’d meant to, cursing himself internally for the vulnerability he’d not meant to express. Leorio stared at him for a moment before ruffling his hair with slow affection, nodding in response.

The doctor walked over to the nearest doorway, sticking his head through and saying something that couldn’t be heard from within the room. When he pulled back he stepped over to the side, seating   
himself in one of the chairs that lined the window-wall to step outside of what would be an intimate moment, if not give them privacy. Killua signaled his thanks with a jerk of his head before the door opened again, the picture of beauty bounding in towards him.

“Onii-san!”

She was taller than she’d been months ago, coming up just past his shoulder as she leapt into his arms to be held and twirled like he would when she was a child. As soon as he saw her his heart clenched, absorbing every second of absence that had passed between them. He let his eyes close as they stilled, breathing in deeply as his body relaxed around her. If anything made him think of home it was her, the softness of her freckled arms, her hair that smelled of apples. For a brief, fleeting second, he let himself get lost in the warmth of his greatest treasure.

Like all things, he had to let go too soon.

“Guess what?” she beamed, her eyes as bright as stars. “I’ve learned how to make paper flowers! The whole hospital’s decorated in them now! And Nanika can make paper bunnies, but she won’t tell me how. Oh! And I have to show you what I’ve learned; you’ve been gone so long and I miss you!” She snuggled into his chest as she spoke, despite being too big to do so without crouching. He stroked her head lovingly, one arm still around her waist as she gushed, not wanting to break the moment.

“Next time, when I visit you at the hospital, you can show me all your new tricks. It isn’t as safe here.” She didn’t let that bother her, agreeing with a sparkling smile. His heart sunk. “Alluka. I’m not the only one here.”

Her face fell slowly. He let his hand slip away as she stepped back, looking at him curiously.

“Onii-san?”

“It’s Gon. He’s here.”

The pure happiness that was in her eyes faded into something unreadable, causing his blood to run cold. Suddenly, he wondered if he’d made the right choice by bringing him here, if he’d forced the issue out of pride rather than for his sister. Looking at her, he wasn’t sure what was right and what was wrong anymore. His whole world was askew.

“He can leave,” he said rushedly, drawing the attention of the doctor who was still sitting by. “If you don’t want to see him, I’ll have him leave. But he had something to say to you.”  
Alluka watched him with clear apprehension, pausing for a moment to mull things over. She had a habit of stopping to think over important matters; though she and Nanika could share their thoughts at the same time, it was easier to decide on things together when they took turns to think.

“It’s okay.” She said slowly, as if her tongue were unused to forming words. “He can come in.”

Killua saw her gaze pulled from over his shoulder and turned, only to find Gon already standing in the doorway sheepishly. He walked forward, but did not cross the span of the room. It was Killua who moved back, standing halfway between the two, a nervous mediator in the wings. He held his breath as they examined each other, preparing to accept any future he was handed.

He had no idea what was to come.

“Alluka…” Gon’s voice made her jump, and Killua would’ve been lying if he didn’t react similarly. “It’s been a long time.”  
She nodded, looking from him to her brother and then back. The white haired teen ignored the way the doctor was watching them, his intention on jumping in if he had to showing in his stance.

“Alluka I’m,” he swallowed, his eyes darting to Killua briefly as he licked his lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in danger. I didn’t mean to leave you there. I’m sorry.”  
His voice trailed off toward the end, drawing the other teen’s attention to the way he stared at his feet, ashamed. It wasn’t enough, though, he realized with disdain. Even if he apologized, he’d still _done_ it. Even if he regretted it, he’d still meant to do it in that moment. The former assassin was about to open his mouth, to let the hurt pour out once again, but wasn’t given the chance.

“I knew.”

Killua tore his gaze from the raven haired teen to look at his sister, who stood similarly, hair hanging down over her downturned face. For a moment, the words didn’t register, floating in the air. A second ticked by before the implication began to sink in, a small voice in the back of his mind whispering _no_.

“I didn’t want to say anything, but Nanika told me when it happened.” She looked up suddenly, tears forming behind black holes, her gaping mouth shaking as she clenched at the edge of her dress.

“Sorry, Killua,” Nanika sniffed, her shoulders scrunching as she curled forward in a childlike motion. “We knew.”

For the second time in his life, in the presence of the people who his life had revolved around for so long, Killua’s world blurred.

Faintly, he could hear his sister pleading with him, something along the lines of _we didn’t know how to tell you_ and _we’re all alright, aren’t we_ , but none of it stuck. His eyes saw Leorio standing to attention and running to intercept Gon, holding him back as he tried to claw his way over to the white haired teen. Alluka was crying on the edge of his vision, no doubt letting the guilt that had been eating at both girls flow out through her tears. Even so, he saw nothing but black, sinking deep within his own mind.

Gon had arranged for them to be ambushed. And his sister had known.

He was gone faster than he’d ever run from anything in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **PLEASE READ NOTES AT BEGINNING OF CHAPTER**


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, first off, thanks everyone for 100 kudos. I never expected this story to reach so many people, so thanks for sticking with it and leaving me your feedback! Also, a HUGE THANK YOU to Luvlylexy for beta reading for me! It means the world that you've taken such an interest in this story, and I can't thank you enough!
> 
> This chapter's a bit short, but I'm sure the next Leopika chapter will be plenty to make up for it. **Warnings for blood and self-destructive Kurapika. **I hope you guys like it, and as always kind comments are greatly appreciated!****

Sleeping for days had never looked so appealing.

It wasn’t in his usual character to shut the world out in favor of a room with closed shades and the humming of white noise to keep everything else too distant to hear, but these were extenuating circumstances. He was no more than a man, he often told himself, a man who had made it through trials that most could not and still managed to stay sane. A man who had taken on too much to carry and then, after taking his one chance to be free of it all, had taken on some more. There was only so much he could do to help the ones he cared about, beyond setting broken bones and watching over their physical health. Sometimes, they didn’t turn to him when they needed help. Sometimes, all he could do was step away.

It was enough to leave him feeling broken.

Once again, he’d found himself picking up the pieces of someone else’s mess, not that there was blame to be thrown around. They were so far past the point of blame being helpful, and honestly he didn’t care who was right or who was wrong, so long as someone made a choice about their own wellbeing and stuck with it.

He was tired of seeing his friend reach out, only to be grasping at air. He was tired of watching as the other ran, eyes always on the edge of overflowing. He was tired of being left behind to figure out what to do next, to be the responsible adult in a world of enigmatic, abandoned children.

He was just so tired.

He’d been the one to make the executive decision to bring Alluka back to the city hospital, shooting her brother a text when he failed to return and setting off immediately, despite her wishes. The doctor wasn’t sure whether to be touched or horrified when she’d asked to stay and try to sort through things with Gon, who had fallen to his knees and taken her into his arms after Killua had fled. Had she not been crying so hard Leorio would have been quicker to pry him away from her, but the comfort seemed to do some good, and he was at a loss for what else to do. He didn’t let it last, though; even without having the details spelled out for him he was less than willing to let Gon near her for very long. Especially after seeing Killua.

It was taking everything out of him not to think too deeply about that, to put it aside and wait until the white haired one explained the nature of their being together again, but only because he knew that he’d act rashly if he followed what his instincts had told him.

He’d grown up in a place where poverty and excess thrived in a sickening mix, where drink and women were considered pastimes to some and incarnate beauty to others. He had never been one to take either lightly, and with his good looks and kind heart he’d gotten more than his fair share of fists in the face from angry boyfriends and jealous husbands. More so, he’d seen enough of their wives and girlfriends to know what pains love could bring them- what true suffering at their hands meant- the forced closeness, the lack of eye contact, the general sense of unwillingness that surrounded them. Picking out these qualities had been a talent that stuck with him, getting him into more trouble than he’d have thought after leaving his hometown, as well as earning him his reputation.

His instincts had yet to let him down.

That had been more than enough for him to leave Gon there without a second thought, to tell him that if he valued the other’s friendship at all he would not follow. If he was wrong, well, no harm no foul. If not… it was the closest thing to the right thing he could come up with.

Alluka had been mostly silent on the way back, jumping into stammered speech about how to fix things before realizing that she didn’t know what to say on the subject, and falling quiet again. Leorio wished he knew what to tell her, but settled on nondescript reassurances and touches instead of trying to come up for a justification for the events of that day. He didn’t have any, really. All he had was her, and his thoughts.

So it was no wonder, really, after Killua had shown up at an ungodly hour of night demanding to see the sister he had run out on, providing no information in the meantime except that he had to talk to her, that he was too overwhelmed to say anything to anyone that wasn’t either Alluka or Nanika, that the doctor stormed off to the director’s office and shut himself in. The bed that hid behind the double doors that held the pretense of being a closet was less than luxurious, but the room was closer to the trouble than his empty apartment and he was damned if he’d run out on his friends like they seemed keen on doing to him. No, he’d stay put, close his eyes, and deal with the monstrosity of a situation that they’d created after getting a few good hours of rest.

But hell if he didn’t want to sleep forever.

It didn’t last, like most things. After a few hours of sleep, there he was, eyes open and alert. He took note of the time with a heavy look before pulling himself from where he lay, not bothering to close up the bed when he slipped out the door. He took his time in wandering back down the stairs and over to the young girl’s room, pacing back and forth outside of her door before gathering the nerve to act. When he finally stopped, raising a fist to the door to knock, the entryway swung wide before he had the chance to make contact.

“Shh,” Alluka stood before him, raising her finger to her lips and stepping out into the hall. He managed to catch a glimpse of inside before the door was closed behind her. Killua lay curled up on the bed, breathing deep in sleep. They spoke softly and quickly, Alluka passing along that her brother would be staying with her for a couple of days while he sorted through what she had told him. She was particularly adamant in her urgings for the doctor to return home; at first he was afraid that she resented him for his actions earlier that day. After listening to her speak a bit more, though, he came to the conclusion that she was more frustrated with her own situation and genuinely concerned over his. There was no way he could deny it when her small hands closed over his, a soft look on her face as she squeezed and told him he needed his rest just like anyone else, doctor or not.

Despite not having the faintest clue as to where Gon was, Leorio stepped back and left handling Killua to the experts.  
But damn, if he wasn’t tired.

Alluka had made it a promise to call him either in the morning or if Killua left- whichever came first, though the doctor hoped that he’d stick around long enough for them to talk. There was so much he had to say to the boy, so much that he needed to know before locking him away with his sister. Perhaps that would be best, he mused, the heavy footfalls of his steps failing to break through his heavier thoughts as he trudged back to his apartment in the neighboring district. Perhaps what Killua needed was not what he thought, but instead what he had strove to save. He could only hope that he’d be less than eager to leave her behind again. Even so, he had his doubts.

Logic was a tool for those not yet set in their ways.

And peace was something good men never saw.

“Kurapika.”

Like an iron weight crashing through his heart, Leorio was suddenly very, very awake.

The blond did not look at him, despite having sought him out. He just sat in the far corner of the doctor’s tiny living area, eyes maddeningly wide but unseeing, staring past Leorio’s hunched form at nothing within his immediate sight. His shoulders shook from beneath his tabard, a shock to the doctor, who hadn’t seen him in it in years. But what captured his attention, what caused him to ignore the fact that the Kurta had broken into his home after weeks of absence to wait for him, was the sight of his hands.

Raw.

Red scrapes lined the surface of his palms upwards- his fingernails, short and bloodied from long ago were no doubt the culprit. There was swelling over the pink highlights and dark lowlights that he’d made, marking just how recent the damage was. They hung uselessly at his sides, fingers jumping as if he could not feel the pain that each movement must have caused.

Like a man transfixed by the spell of another, Leorio stepped into the room, the door closing behind him with a resounding thud.

“Kurapika.” This time the name was no more than a breath, eased from lips of a man slowly approaching. The blond did not respond, his tenseness infectious. Leorio chose his route carefully, moving to set his briefcase down on the table next to where the Kurta sat rather than corner him immediately. He moved with quick and silent hands, unlocking the two snaps to the lid before kneeling in front of the blond to catch his eyes. They were dark, still seemingly blind to the other’s presence – Leorio couldn’t see the outlines of contacts, which worried him further. Without skipping a beat, the doctor slipped his hands under the other’s, his intention in wrapping them. Even after the years away from the Exam, he still carried gauze and salve with him wherever he went. At times like this, it felt warranted.

“I did it.” The red hands jerked, grasping the other wildly, no doubt painfully, as the blond showed the first signs of conscious awareness. Leorio’s attempts at healing were paused as his wrists were dug into by the other’s dull nails, drawing blood. “I killed him.”

There was a second of silence in which the doctor did nothing but stare, unsure of what the other meant, why he was shaking, why he was there. He didn’t wonder over it for long, the need to be of present mind more immediately important.

“Hey, Kurapika, you need to snap out of it!” He wanted to yell, like he would’ve during their first voyage, but the words ended up coming out just as pained as they did harsh. “What are you talking about?”

Then, suddenly, ripped raw fingers were gripping him so hard that blood began to pour from them, seeping out of the sensitive wounds that covered them. Leorio couldn’t help but jump, jerking his arms back as much as he could while held in the other’s grip. His whole body convulsed, doubling over before he forced himself to sit straight, eyes completely deadened.

“Leorio.” The doctor stopped at the sound of his name, spoken more coherently than anything else the blond had said before. “I killed eleven with my bare hands.”

And then he was pushing the doctor away, clawing at his own hands obsessively, a river of red flowing from his fingertips. Leorio struggled to stop him, slipping as sticky liquid covered them both, staining the bandages that then rolled to the floor. Almost animalistic cries sounded from the other’s mouth as he flailed, bloody handprints painting the table and the white shirt the doctor was wearing, splattering artless drops wherever they landed. All the while Leorio called the Kurta’s name, trying to break him of his madness by the sound of his heavy, pleading voice.

Hours later, long after the blond had passed out from exhaustion, after his self-inflicted wounds had been bandaged, and Leorio stood in his red-soaked living room, bleach and bucket in hand, did he swear to himself never to be covered in the other’s blood again.

Never.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another thank you to LuvlyLexy for beta-ing for me! It's because she's so wonderful that this chapter is going up so quickly!  
> For the first time in a long time, I cannot think of any warnings for this chapter! If, however, I'm mistaken (or am ever missing anything) drop me a line and I'll be sure to put them up!

The sound of the train’s whistle signaled the opening of the former assassin’s eyes, pulling him from his twilight sleep. Though he hadn’t been fully out, the reprieve had been refreshing enough to keep him from wanting to drift back into it immediately. Instead, he was happy to bask in the quietness of that which surrounded him as the old fashioned locomotive shot through the falling dark, ambiently caressing his senses as it shook from side to side with the force of its journey. He turned his head take in the sight next to him, carefully so as not to disturb the young man who slept gently against his shoulder, before looking at the sleeping figure across from him. Leorio, thankfully, had learned to sleep more gracefully than he had during his teenage years, only slouching slightly from his upright sitting position, mouth mercifully shut. Killua was surprised at how relaxed he seemed, especially in the present company, but more so at the fact that he hadn’t woken since first passing out. Leorio had a tendency to jump at the smallest hint of trouble when it came to taking care of his loved ones – even if that hint was no danger at all. Seeing the doctor in such a state soothed the white haired one like almost nothing else; the only thing that could have given him similar comfort was pressing against him in the form of Kurapika, breathing lightly into his shirt.

He would have smiled to himself if not for the sleepy feeling that flooded over him, pulling his eyelids closed before he slipped back into peaceful slumber.

  


This was not how he’d expected things to turn out. Somehow, he was alright with that.

 

_Though he’d been angrily flustered when he’d addressed Leorio, once the door behind him was closed the volatile energy he’d been harboring disappeared in a flourish of nervous exhaustion. Alluka was looking up from where she sat at the desk on the other side of her room, not seeming surprised in the least that he’d barged in after his last disappearance. In fact, her face had been eerily somber, thin lines creasing her forehead. It pained him to see pink puffiness under her eyes, even if he was in a similar state._

_He had cried more in the past few months than he had in his entire life. A nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach told him not to expect the flow of tears to stop just yet._

_For the first time, Alluka looked older. The added height and growth elsewhere had done nothing against her child-like enthusiasm for everything, the way the world seemed to sparkle by her just being in it. Now, though, in the room lit only by sunshine impeded by fast moving clouds, he could see the biggest difference. It was all in the eyes, the gateway to her souls, where Killua could see scars of remorse, and worse, regret._

_She didn’t speak, but he knew it was because there was another conversation happening, one that he couldn’t hear. Most likely, Nanika was urging her other half to jump into gear with kind words (as Alluka didn’t struggle the way Nanika did in finding them) and shows of affection, but the outward twin only sat back, silent. Giving him the chance to speak. Giving him the chance to leave._

_Had he been less conflicted, he would’ve taken her into his arms then and there._

_Instead, he hid his eyes with the fringe of his white hair, toing off his shoes as he made his way inside and sliding over to sit on the edge of her monstrous bed- a gift from the director, so he’d heard. She waited until he was situated in the center to join him, keeping her distance as he pulled his knees to his chest, looking nowhere._

_“I hate this.” He bit his lip after speaking, knowing he could only be so open with the two in front of him but having trouble with it either way. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alluka’s face flick to Nanika, but she was back so quickly he wondered if he’d been mistaken._

_“Me too.” He could tell from the way she held herself that it was taking a great effort for her not to reach out and take his hand in hers, something for which he was momentarily grateful. That would come later, once the bile was gone._

_“How,” he began, but found himself muttering curses under his breath. “How did you even find out?” Alluka shook her head rapidly, the beads in her hair clinking together as the ruffles came in contact with each other._

_“Nanika just knows things.” She seemed to be dissatisfied with her own answer, for she amended, “She reads people better than I do, too. So as soon as she knew, she told me.” A second of quiet passed between them. “I didn’t want to believe it, at first…”_

_He looked up at that, but his sister’s head was downturned, out of decipherable sight. Her hands were clasped over one another, the thumb of her right hand gently rubbing circles into the back of her left one. One soothing another, no doubt. She had gotten somewhere in her training, for aspects of both girls to show at once, he mused, caught up in the moment._

_“But I did.”_

_Killua snapped back immediately at the sound of Alluka’s voice, but found himself looking directly into Nanika’s depthless eyes._

_“Gon-kun isn’t bad.”_

_She said it with conviction intense enough to create the illusion of fluid speech, but the way she shook was enough to prove that it was through determination alone. Large tears rolled down her cheeks as she pushed further, trying to find the right way to say what she fought to get across._

_“He’s just wrong.”_

_He’d been reaching out then, to wipe the wetness from her face when her words stopped him in his tracks. Alluka was there in his stead, both hands on her cheeks as she fought back what remained in her eyes and cleared the rest away. The white haired boy sat, dumfounded, as she collected herself._

_“I think Nanika’s right. But that doesn’t matter.” Looking like a damned angel she reached out, not seeming to notice the way his hand fell gracelessly to his side as he stared wide eyed into her. With fingers as delicate as her precious heart, she cupped his cheek, warming him, comforting him, grounding him. He could feel himself shaking, if not from the force of their words, from the gentleness of their touch. “I am so sorry, Onii-chan. We both are. We didn’t understand how it would hurt you. I’m so sorry.”_

_There was matching wetness on his cheeks- from where it came he was unsure. Alluka cringed slightly at the sight, wiping away what hit her hand with her thumb as it did. He let his head fall forward, pulling her with him as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder belatedly, taking in the comfort that only his sister  
could provide._

_“It isn’t your fault.” He managed to choke out, stroking her hair in a manner that was more soothing to him than it was to her. “It’s neither of your faults.”_

_“We didn’t know how to tell you,” she continued, as if once the dam of speech had been opened it was beyond her control to hold it back. “We’d thought Gon-kun would have a plan- that there wouldn’t be a chance for us getting hurt if he was willing to do it! And then it was too late, and we were so scared.” She was beside herself now, curling into the arm over her as the reality of what happened played over in her mind’s eye._

_Even if he had been angry, even if at one point some of it had been directed at his precious girls, he couldn’t help but to sympathize. Of course they wouldn’t have worried over it like he would- despite the time spent travelling together they had never seen Gon under the conditions that Killua had, didn’t know his inclinations of strategy. For most of their time together Gon had been Nen-less, downplaying his extremist gambles simply because there was no sense of necessity to do so, no sense of immediate danger like there had been in Yorkshin or on NGL. Rather, things had been peaceful, punctuated with evenings of sleeping out in the open, three bodies tanged around each other without worries of extermination. Alluka had only ever seen Gon when his predilection lay in kindness- when kindness was the only option for someone, as compared with those who he’d have challenged, who was weak. Conflicts had been faced either by  
Killua or under his supervision; had anything been beyond Gon’s capabilities, the other teen had always intervened._

_He’d been a victim of the same folly before, with more foreknowledge than the girls had. How could he blame them for believing?_

_The anger and sadness quickly was turning to something steeped in shameful understanding, at least of what his sister had done. Still, something didn’t sit right with him, even after all the explanation._

_“Alluka,” her name was a point on which he stabilized himself, focusing on his question with a resolve that dried up the wells in his eyes. He had to know, needed to understand her apprehension in seeing him before. Asking, though, was the difficult part. “It’s about Gon. I’d just thought… Are you afraid of him now?”_

_He knew it wasn’t fair, asking a question which held two meanings without disclosing one of them to her, but it was her answer that he’d choose to act on, if the time came. To be honest, it was his way of not having to ask it himself, projecting outward, pushing the decision making into the land of possible justification._

_Everything was easier when it was him and Alluka against the world; he knew which he’d choose over the other in an instant if asked. The dark haired girl’s face had hardened somewhat at the question, a listening face in part but something else hid behind eyes, something akin to uncertainty. It was with carefulness unlike her that she choose to speak, concise while trepidant._

_“No.” Afraid was not the word, though she failed to find another. “But we understood how you felt. That’s all that matters, Killu-nii.”_

_And when it hit, it hit like red hot coals to his wrists, jumping, searing, painful realization that despite being baseless could only be the truth. Because when it came down to it, Killua had left Gon for his selfishness, for his single-mindedness, without thinking of his own actions. He’d been so blinded-literally and figuratively- after the final battle that he hadn’t even thought of what his sister would have wanted: he’d simply assumed that the danger and fright was enough for her to push Gon away as much as he had._

_But Killua was neither Alluka, the compassionate, nor Nanika, the pure of intent; he stood outside their minds only to guess what went on inside. Perhaps he had  
chosen wrong. Perhaps the unredeemable sin was his: the incapability to forgive._

_Or perhaps the girls were just too good for any of them. Either way, the world seemed wrong._

_“Nii-chan.” Her hands were grasping tightly around his forearms, drawing his eyes to hers as she pulled back to look at him. He swore that he could see Nanika behind them, looking back at him with equal intensity. “I think you were right. To make him go.”_

_Killua blinked slowly, taking that in. It wasn’t what he’d expected, but if the girls could forgive Gon, he didn’t know why he was surprised at the prospect of them taking his side._

_“You needed it- the time away from him. We think it’s a good thing for you to be apart for a while.” Slowly, he nodded. Alluka was right. It was glaringly obvious that Alluka was right. He leaned in briefly, pressing his lips to her forehead gently before attempting a smile, though he knew she could see how difficult it was._

_It was one of the reasons why he loved her so much._

_“Yeah. What do you say then? You, me, and the oceans of Cerulea? Bisky says it’s the color of Blue Planet- we can visit her along the way. Let’s go, just us. You’ve been here for long enough; I’m sure Leorio can do something to make it all work out.” He was silenced when the eyes in front of him changed, growing big and black and expressively empty._

_“No, Killu-nii.” Nanika stared back at him with such sad empathy. His face fell immediately, before she even had a moment to finish. “We can’t come with you.”_

_And even if the world was wrong, it still had the ability to fall out from under him._

_They’d been kind in telling him, and he understood, but it had still stung to hear that any adventures would have to be postponed. More than that, though, was the assumption that he wouldn’t be able to focus inward with the girls around. That had been their major argument for sending him off and staying behind; they wanted him to do some serious thinking about himself. And about Gon._

_To be fair, he knew that if given the chance, he’d have done nothing but dote on her to avoid himself._

_As it turned out, there was something else Leorio could do. Alluka had given her brother a few days of rest before pushing him out the door, keeping him on a short leash in the interim. It had been she who contacted the doctor and made the arrangements, talking quietly into the receiver of her cell phone from the balcony while Killua slept inside. He did that often, over the duration of his stay, often enough to make her wonder if he could’ve used another week of nothing but sleep before she threw him into the wild. There wasn’t enough time for that, though; the tickets had been bought and soon enough it was time for his send off. The doctor showed up the day of the departure as had been planned, bags in hand, to take his young companion away. Nothing was said of Gon; Alluka had asked it and Leorio had made sure that he’d gone his own way, wherever that would lead him. Trying not to think too much on the subject, Killua did not ask for elaboration._

_The goodbyes were short and purposeful, reminding him that this was not like the other journeys that he had gone on: no matter how far his legs would take him, he still had to dive in deep. Alluka had plenty of tears to shed and hugs to give before wishing him well and disappearing back into her ward, denying him the opportunity to change his mind. As much as it hurt to see her walk away from him, he was thankful that he hadn’t had to turn his back to her._

_In the amount of time it took for them to ride the elevators down to the ground floor of the hospital, Killua already had his doubts._

_But then the double doors slid open, revealing a bright outside and a brighter blond head, a face that he hadn’t seen clearly in far too long, and the complications he’d worried over washed away. His first step out had been slow, dreamlike, but in moments he’d burst into a full on sprint. He stopped just in time not to mow him down, hesitation in the lines of his face before caving and enveloping him in his skinny arms. Kurapika only smiled, lifting his bandaged hands to wrap his own extremities around the younger one. With his own soft features, Leorio came up on them slowly, ruffling the pair’s hair despite Killua’s squirming._

_They took off thereafter, trading in their tickets for seats on the old Eastern train, heading out into a land that was known for its serene beauty. Killua had listened to the two’s unexpected story of reunion, basking in the happy togetherness, the warmth that he felt coming from the friend at his side. Like that, they drifted off to sleep, waiting for a waking that meant new beginnings, and ultimately, peace. ___

__

__There was kickback from the engines of the machine, shaking the compartment of the passenger car and waking its travelers. Killua tensed at the initial tremor, relaxing as he remembered his surroundings and peeked over the blond head to his side to look out the window. They had slowed considerably by the passing rate of trees flying by, working to what seemed a rather difficult stop. Night had fallen long ago, the dim lighting of the car supplemented only by orange moonlight. The former assassin blinked slowly, admiring the dark landscape before letting his eyes slip back shut and leaning equally onto the body which pushed against him. Their projected journey by train was another day, and if Kurapika seemed content to sleep through each stop, so did he._ _

__He didn’t notice the way quiet seemed to spread as the locomotive halted, the murmuring chatter from the other compartments or the footsteps that seemed not to go anywhere. What he did notice, as his eyelids drifted shut, was the way Leorio sat up straight, awake and alert._ _

__“This,” he started, unsure, squinting as he leaned toward the glass of the window, peering outside. “isn’t the station.”_ _

__Suddenly, lights failed and the car was shrouded in black, no more than a few seconds passing before the darkness transitioned to red._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Nice comments** make a sad author happy again! (Seriously, it's been the week from hell, everyone). Find me on here, ff.n, lj, and tumblr if you want to chat about HxH stuff!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S PLEA: Everyone, I know you want to see everyone happy, but please, PLEASE stop asking me when you'll see a happy ending. This story is tagged as Heavy Angst for a reason: if you cannot handle that, please don't read it! I want to put out quality work - I'm not going to force anything for the sake of ending it sooner. So when you leave me a comment, know how anxious and upset it makes me (as someone who wants to be better as a writer and a planner) when the quality of the story is not addressed, but rather the fact that someone doesn't like my choice in content. If something I write is problematic (and I don't address that), call me out. If I have continuity or spelling issues, correct me. But PLEASE don't tell me where this story should go, because *I* am the only one writing it. Comments should be supportive, they should be *constructive criticism, they should be kind. Anything other than that is not welcome.**
> 
> Chapter 16 is here! Thank you to my wonderful beta LuvlyLexy for reading through this and putting my mind at ease- I was ready to rewrite this a hundred times over until she snapped me out of it! If you haven't noticed, I've put up a final count down for the chapters. I've planned for 21 in total (unless I cannot count, which is unfortunate but likely), so for those of you wondering when it'll all wrap up, there you have it!
> 
> Just a note: if the one you've been feeling sorry for up until this chapter is Gon- I'm afraid you're not getting the point of this story. If the one you're feeling sorry for _after_ this chapter is Gon, well, I can't really argue with that.

He didn’t understand how Killua could claim that it was always him leaving. If anything, this was proof that they were both guilty of it.

It had not been Leorio who had convinced him to stay behind while the others journeyed on: it had been Kurapika. The incident at the facility in the countryside hadn’t been enough to deter him; though Leorio had advised against it (rather, had emphatically forbidden it- but who was he to determine Gon’s course of action), the young Hunter had taken flight not long after releasing Alluka. He’d known where the other was likely to go, or at least where he was likely to show his face again once he’d gotten some space.

Defying the doctor had become as easy as it had once been to listen to him, and Gon was unafraid of what he’d say if he found him standing on the corner outside of the hospital, just waiting for Killua to come out. It hadn’t escaped his mind that on the off chance the former assassin’s family was still interested in finding him he would be the easiest lead, but he doubted they’d show their faces for another battle like before where so many others could potentially intervene. Certainly, there were enough Hunters around to create a reasonable defense. That was good enough.

He had indeed been caught, and sooner than he’d expected at that. Leorio had sought him out the moment Killua had returned, from what Gon could gather, a mere two days after expelling him from his sister’s side. He’d been sitting on a low brick wall outside of a nearby café at the time, sipping on some too-sweet drink that Killua would have preferred, when the older man sat at his side. There was nothing to preface it, no pretense of having been there accidentally, just a long, drawn out sigh before the doctor got to business.

“We’re taking a trip. And Killua’s coming with us.” He didn’t leave any room for argument, Gon staring up at him with a somewhat curious look on his face. He didn’t answer right away, noticing how the lines on Leorio’s face seemed so much deeper than they had just a few years ago. Hunters weren’t supposed to age so visibly.

“We?” had been all he’d asked, in a voice that sounded like the childhood him. Leorio didn’t respond, just stared at him with exhausted skepticism.

“Yes, Gon. We.” And there he’d been, the beautiful young man who’d been absent from his life for far too long. He hadn’t sensed the blond’s approach, which was a surprise even despite his loss of Nen; he’d been unusually aware of other people’s presences even before taking the Exam. It startled him, quite the feat. “But you have to stay behind.”

The Kurta had sat down on his other side, bandaged hands in his lap, and explained to him what had led them to the land of damned souls where he had been beaten down and broken. He spoke softly of what he’d hoped to accomplish, of what he’d failed to do, of what he’d lost in trying. Gon listened quietly as his friend admitted to something that he’d never thought he’d hear, something that made the doctor snap his head up in shock, incredulity written in his very bones. Something changed in Gon when he heard Kurapika speak that he had been wrong, when he looked away and said that he regret what he’d done over the past months. It was something small, but enough that when Kurapika met his eyes, he was prepared to consider what the blond was proposing.

They needed to go away.

Of all the things explained to him, what Gon had trouble grasping the most was how his absence would play into the other’s plan. He’d understood the purpose behind bringing Kurapika and Killua together, how the blond claimed he needed to atone for the mistakes he’d made. It was noble, almost, how Kurapika seemed determined to prove the other’s importance to him in doing so, knowing how overlooked the former assassin had been while the world fell apart around them. But still, he’d wanted to be there, to be a part of sewing their little family back together, piece by piece.

Though Kurapika sat beside him, alive and well, he was reminded of a tragic triad, three shaking bodies held together while he watched alone from afar.

It hit him suddenly, the opportunity he was being presented with, the justice that could be achieved while the pair worked together to heal – whatever he had meant by that. Kurapika had failed his friends, sought out to destroy a member of Killua’s family, one who had been a mere infant at the time of the attacks on his family. He’d had the intent to kill, no matter what the cost, that precious child, that youngest brother. It hadn’t mattered that Kalluto proved stronger- he was still family. He still held a place in Killua’s heart.  
The blond had forsaken that. But so had Gon.

Even though he’d felt justified, jealous or otherwise, Gon hadn’t considered Killua’s feelings for his family when he’d acted. He’d been blinded by his own, by his inability to understand that Killua had a different point of view, one far more conflicted and complex, that he was likely to be hurt by any outcome let alone one involving the letting of blood. Even he could see the change it made in his companion, the weight that he carried on his heart.

Kurapika could take him far away and apologize, but Gon could fix things.

He took his time in thinking it over once Kurapika had finished speaking, wondering at logistics and what exactly he’d say, but the decision was already made. He was a little stung by the suspicious look Leorio had given him when he’d agreed, but decided against trying to reassure him. It wouldn’t have helped anyway, he was sure.

They were kind enough to give him some basic information as to what exactly they planned on doing, but the arrangements had yet to be formalized (they’d left that in Alluka’s hands, as she was the one who knew Killua the best). What they did know was that wherever they ended up, they planned on staying out of trouble. Whatever happened, they’d be sitting the missions and disasters out this time around. That was fine by Gon- he’d be leaving first, anyway.

They parted ways soon thereafter, the two adults venturing back to the doctor’s apartment to tend to their needs and leaving Gon behind. He didn’t move at first, watching as people rushed by busily, before hopping up from his spot and taking off in the direction of the harbor. He had quite a bit of work to do.

Finding the information he needed was the hardest part of his task: certainly, he could have gone straight to the home of the source (he’d done it before) but that involved far too much risk. It was just another painful reminder of his inability to function as before, of his inherent weakness. He’d do something about that too, once everything was settled. If anything, his lack of Nen was for the best: it proved that he was of no threat. At least, that’s what he hoped.

Somehow, as was usually the case, luck was on his side. Sources from his days as an active Hunter had been helpful enough to point him in the right direction. His target had a tendency to move quickly when he was required to be away, making him difficult to corner, but sightings had been recorded recently enough that Gon felt confident. His contacts had directed him to the East, luckily within the same continent, though it was still a journey. He’d managed to commission passage on a small airship, one that was located just between the Northwestern city he’d been in and the next boating town, despite his lack of pocket change. It was a strange trait, to be able to charm strangers into helping him with nothing but bright eyes and a smile.

Though it took no more than a day from the moment he stepped onto the ship, the trip seemed far too long. Exploring alone was one thing, but Gon hated traveling without friends. It made him feel further away from them than when he was static, gave him nothing to do but time to sit and think. Solo travel always left him uncomfortable, as if there were a shadow following close behind that he couldn’t ever seem to find, no matter how hard he looked. It had the potential to be maddening.

Sometimes, when Killua wasn’t there and he found himself alone, Gon felt disturbingly empty.

Sometimes, even when Killua _was_ there, Gon found himself feeling the same.

The sense of relief that washed over him when his feet hit land was nothing short of groundbreaking, pulling away the darkness as he moved forward. He didn’t give himself any time to rest, taking to the streets immediately, eyes set on his goal. His informant hadn’t been able to be specific, but Gon was familiar enough with the type of people unfortunate enough to cross paths with the one he sought out to be able to make a guess as to where he’d be. Cities were always so full of uncouth people, there were plenty of places to look.

It was a mere eighteen hours before he’d caught up to him: in the banking sector among the sparkling towers and gold lined sidewalks. The streets were quiet as business was dying down for the day, no doubt leaving only the lower workers behind to complete tasks that should have been delegated to their higher-ups. A single, top floor window had been alight out of all of the other offices – a CEO or boss of some kind’s space, no doubt. That had been all Gon needed to single it out as the target’s location: few privileged businessmen would have stayed behind so late while his workforce made their way back home to their families. Certainly, it was the outlier.

He’d seen the light go off as he approached the doors to the building, some transcontinental investment firm he knew should have been familiar to him by name but wasn’t. The iron double doors opened with ease, unexpected, but he didn’t think about it. He knew that he’d been sensed: by the easy allowance of entry and by the lighted numbers on the elevators across the lobby which slowly descended upon him. They took their time counting down, giving him time to move across the marble floor toward them. It was a shadowy scenery, all stone and iron and obstructed sunlight, making the outside world seem not to exist.

There was a small ring and the doors opened before him.

“Zeno.”

The old man looked at him pointedly before stepping out from the elevator, his brows furrowed in a displeased fashion. Gon stood rigidly as the other looked him over, like a headmaster inspecting a troublesome student. He frowned openly at the small, thoughtful noise the assassin directed at him, as if he’d interrupted something important. Surely he hadn’t: the child of the woods could smell that the blood had already been spilled.

“We need to talk.” The older man’s eyes clearly asked what the boy could have wanted with him, but he remained silent, his stare as deadly as the rest of him. “It’s about time Killua’s family left him alone.”

Zeno’s eyebrow raised in the slightest, mild surprise perhaps. It was not the younger one’s words that had caught him off guard, though. Rather, he had to question whether or not the boy knew how to value his own life. Even without Nen, he was a dangerous person indeed.

“And you sought me out because?” The sound of the assassin’s gruff voice reminded Gon of falling stars, shaking the ground with their impact. He wondered if anyone else who had met the man, met him and lived to dream about it, would have been transported back to that moment. In his mind’s eye, the image was no more than a blur. That, he conceded, was probably for the best.

“You’re the most neutral party.” There was a confidence in his words, but the Zoldyk had noticed the near nonexistent shaking of his voice. It reminded him of a child, trying to hide the importance of his words behind determination. Only Killua had spoken to him like that, when he had been much younger. “You’re the only one who hasn’t tried to take him away yet.”

The old man turned from him, leaving a pause before taking a few slow steps around the dark haired teenager. Gon didn’t move, watching him carefully as he circled round, clearly deliberating. With the other’s back turned to him, the teen swallowed.

Gon was by no means a strategist.

He hadn’t thought this far ahead, wasn’t sure what he’d say if Zeno tried to deny him. In truth, he had no way of guaranteeing anything, no rabbits up his sleeve to ensure the result he wanted. All he could do was hold steadfast, let judgement rein, and work with the results he was given.

“I suppose you’re right about that. Of the lot of them, I’m the only one who thought time apart would be good for my grandson. He’s a passionate young man- one that can’t be contained by values like our family’s unless he reaches those conclusions on his own.” 

He stopped, turning on his heel to pierce Gon with a look unlike any other. For a moment, the once-was Hunter actually experienced fear, the deep, penetrating icy fear that one only gets from someone who death knows intimately, who death is willing to bend to accommodate. In that moment, Gon recognized him as the reaper himself.

“But I will not hand him over to the likes of you.”

With dark shadows falling over marble floors, all sounds of the outside world silenced by walls of iron and steel, faceless statues pressed up against ancient gold flaked walls, it was no wonder that the raven haired teen believed time to have stopped.

“You are reckless.” There was an anger present in his voice now, one to match his eagle eyes. “I have seen enough of what you have caused to know that, and your selfishness. I have no opposition to leaving Killua and what he possesses alone, but not with you.”

Somewhere, in the part of his mind that was still able to process thought coherently, he knew that meant Alluka. The rest of him was stuck, falling as the floor was pulled out from under him, shock triumphing all else.

Then came the conflict, the desire to push back and argue that he had saved Killua, that he had been his everything and for good reason, that their friendship meant more than that bastardization of a family ever could. His fists clenched at his side, the muscles in his arms tightening as rage began to fill him from the bottom up. He was more than enough to protect Killua, to keep him safe and happy, to show him the parts of the world that his family would never have exposed him to. If anything was damaging, it was that godforsaken household: that brother who planted needles of fear and complacency while the jealous other got off on his suffering, that mother who smothered him to the point of insanity, that father who would hold his heart with false care, only to feed it to his dogs for pleasure. How could he claim that Gon was more of a liability than those who would forsake him in an instant?

Because he was.

There was nothing he could claim, in that instant, that he had done purely for the wellbeing of his friend. They’d dragged each other into dangerous situations, and though he knew it was necessary in order to fight uninhibited, he’d not been concerned over the effects it had on Killua. He’d not worried about dragging his sister into the pits of hell, not thought of how he’d aid him in a fight the other had not signed up for, not thought of the psychological toll it might take on him to tear his father into bits. He’d risked his own life making sure that Killua would stand by and protect him in the aftermath, had pushed him into confrontation after confrontation because it had been what he’d wanted. He’d stepped into his ring of lightning, stopped his own heart just to get a reaction out of him, just to watch him crumble as proof of his feelings. He’d held him down while he cried and covered him in soft kisses, ignoring his tears, deaf to his refusal. He’d pushed, and pushed, and pushed, until there was nothing left by means of resistance. He’d heard it before, selfish, reckless, but then it had only been Leorio. What did he know about what Killua really wanted? What he needed? What could he understand of all consuming obsession, of love?

The fire became ash in his mouth.

Slowly, with contrived effort almost beyond his ability, Gon’s fingers uncurled from the fist he was making. He inhaled shakily, holding his breath before letting it go as calmly as he could. His shoulders trembled, the effort to keep them still failing in favor of trying to keep from breaking, from shattering violently into pieces. He tried to meet the other’s eyes, but kept faltering, not able to hold his gaze.

“If I go, will you promise me they’ll be left alone?”

Though his face did not change, the look in Zeno’s eyes softened, as if he had not gotten the result he’d expected. The stillness in the room did not fade, both parties as unmoving as they could be as they examined each other. Under circumstances like these patience was not one of Gon’s virtues and he moved to speak again, but the other shook his head, silencing him. Another moment passed before he spoke, tone even, face unreadable.

“Yes.”

Gon’s whole body shifted at the word, as if he’d been struck in the chest. His eyes were dull, all thought turned inward as he began to consider what he’d already said. A bead of sweat dropped from where it had been gathering on his brow, hitting the stone floor with more weight than it had. There was no other way, not that his mind could find as it raced in ambient chaos, than the one he’d proposed. Perhaps he’d known it from the beginning, perhaps it had been his reason for chasing him so forcefully once they had fallen out. He didn’t want it – to be alone.

And yet, even after living for so long in delusion, he somehow understood that it was for the best. For his own good. For Killua’s.

The universe then opened up, and in it he saw the truth of all that he had done.

It was maddening.

“Can I… can I say goodbye?”

Another drop hit the floor, then another, this time a tear. His body had loosened up, the shaking stopping in favor of the wetness running down his cheeks. He didn’t even notice, though; he’d been blind to what was happening for so long that the addition of tears in his eyes failed to impair him any further. Zeno just watched, entirely unaffected, as the teen in front of him faded into a distraught version of himself.

“Five days. Then I’ll make sure they’re free of both of us.”

He’d been long gone by the time Gon had realized that he was alone, the flow of tears turning from a steady stream to choking, wet sobs. He couldn’t breathe, the world turning on its axis as he fell to his knees, coughing violently. It was so cold so suddenly, goosebumps rising along his arms as he held himself, the sounds of his sobs resonating in the high ceilinged lobby.

This was what he had to do, despite everything. He could still save Killua.

Digging his nails into his skull, he cried out, saline and saliva hitting the ground as he curled in on himself.

He just loved him so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you missed it: PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S PLEA AT BEGINNING OF CHAPTER
> 
> Thanks to all of you who've been reading! Don't forget to let me know if you like what you're seeing (and if you don't, well, I'm sorry we can't pursue this relationship).
> 
> Find me on ff.n, tumblr, or livejournal. **I'm not taking requests at the moment (I've already got a looooong queue) but feel free to shoot me an email (it's on my tumblr) or msg if you want to see something done eventually!**
> 
> As always, nice comments make the author smile!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: This chapter contains mentions of death, desecrated corpses, as well as major violence.**
> 
> Hi everyone, I hope you enjoy this chapter! It's a little everyone-centric (less so about Gon, since he had his limelight in the last one). Thanks to my wonderful beta LuvlyLexy for helping me out and always listening to my ranting!
> 
> **Notes about Updates at the end!**

Waking was usually an unpleasant ritual, a reminder that sleep was a time of vulnerability. It was disorienting, blurred like a distant dream, and often resembling one as memories faded into the background. Waking was a sign that life continued, whether the sleeping wished it or not.

This time though, he felt warm.

Sunlight brushed his eyelids, forcing him to blink a few times before the world came into focus. Even before being able to see he knew he was safe- there was softness against his cheek and heat around his toes, and a far off memory of what could have been a home. This, he mused in his half-conscious state, was what peace felt like.

The first thing he saw was immediately recognizable, he’d seen it often enough. Leorio’s back was to him, his breathing even in sleep. He’d changed out of his dress shirt, a white tank leaving his shoulders and neck mostly exposed. Lines of tension were woven through visible skin, disturbing the ease that he should have shown. He wanted to reach out, to smooth away the worry, but something held him back. He shifted, looking down, startled at what he found.

His hands, bandaged thickly to resemble mittens, were bound together at the wrists.

He could recognize the other’s handiwork without question in the way he felt no discomfort, yet still struggled to stretch his fingers. They felt slick inside their casing, as if coated with oil, and also a little numb, something he was sure he should be thankful for. It was a moment before the memories from the night before returned to him, his unwillingness to revisit them the most present cause. He’d shown up, after weeks of absence, to bleed on the other’s doorstep. This time, he’d gone too far.  
It had to end.

The bonds holding him captive, he knew, were meant for his own safety: there was no doubt in his mind that Leorio had been worried about further self-harm. It was also the reason he choose to sleep beside him: had the situation been different, had he given Leorio another choice, the doctor would have been nowhere in sight. He’d done more than enough to deserve that, the Kurta thought bitterly, reminding himself that once again the other had chosen to stay despite his resolution to distance himself. He’d forsaken that, just to make sure Kurapika would sleep without conflict.

The blond sat up slowly, trying his best not to cause any shifting in the mattress as he did, but knowing that the other had awoken anyway. Even so, he did not move, feigning sleep and fighting to keep his breathing from changing. Again, giving the other a chance to leave.

But he did not.

He almost lost his voice when he opened his mouth to speak, but pushed on despite the crack that sounded. The doctor twitched visibly, the pretense of sleep fading as he turned to face the other’s voice.

“Leorio.”

The doctor was shocked at the way Kurapika looked at him, calm and even, meeting his eyes without hesitation. It was different than usual- the directness of his gaze not meant to distract from more difficult questions of his whereabouts or wellbeing, just pure, unadulterated Kurapika. It was almost like when they first met, before his vengeance had been given the opportunity to truly thrive. It was enough to give him pause.

“It’s about time we talked.”

The doctor sat up with great reluctance, keeping a palpable distance from the other side of the bed. Kurapika watched him settle, keeping quiet until he was sure he could speak without thinking too deeply about what he wanted to say. It was easier, to focus on the other and let the words flow without allowing time for inhibition.

“It’s been about a decade since I buried them. My friends. My family. Those beholden to me. I’m sure I’ve never told you about that- of the sights and smells of rotting bodies and of the rain. It’s infinitely harder to dig when the rain keeps turning the dirt into mud as it goes. Infinitely harder when you were considered one of the weaker children in the tribe, in terms of physical strength. I kept slipping as I tried to haul earth out of the way for a proper burial, kept falling into the holes I dug along with those who I placed there. A few times after falling in, I was sure I’d never be able to climb back out. I remember that very clearly- the terror that I experienced when stuck in a pit only a few feet from the surface, the body of a neighbor or relative curled around my feet. The rest of my feelings were muddled, anguish and sickness, the near constant heaving of bile and stinging of forming blisters on my hands as I tried but failed to do them justice. After falling, I dug shallower graves, for fear of being trapped in one alive. Some of those bodies are surely long gone because of the work I did.”

He blinked rapidly, as if experiencing a lucid dream while speaking, not knowingly looking away from Leorio but not quite meeting his gaze. It lasted seconds, the blond lifting his fallen head and remaking contact before speaking again.

“I didn’t bury them right away, perhaps half a day after I found them. I don’t really know. Time seemed to stop after I found my mother. I lay down next to her when I did, for a   
long while, just to be near her. What was left of her.”

Leorio didn’t know what to think as the other paused, breath shaky. He’d asked, as many times as he could when the situation had allowed, but not once had Kurapika reiterated any memory of the incident to him. He’d always just stared into nothing, blank as stone, before standing and walking away. Despite this, he could not find words to fill the empty space. It did not last, either way.

“My desire for vengeance has always been obvious to me, and more recently accessible. From the time I’d finished putting them in the ground, I knew that I would become something capable of taking every life that had snuffed out my people, in equal number, in equal brutality if necessary. I have always been prepared to kill those who have already killed. I have long since accepted that as a form of evil, but in the past few years I have also embraced it. It was all that mattered. It was all that defined who I am.  
Leorio, I’m afraid.

I’m beginning to forget things, the things that defined my existence before, the things that made hate so necessary. I can’t remember how certain games I used to play as a child were done, or the words to the lullabies that my mother would sing every night. The names of traditional foods and folklore are fading, no more than distant recollections and fuzzy images. It’s all been replaced, replaced by anger and plans and training regimens. All I see, all the time, is nothing but red. I don’t even know if I can stop. And that frightens me.”

Leorio swallowed hard as heavy tears escaped the edges of his companion’s eyes, though the look in them did not change. Rather, as wet trails made their way down his face, the blond smiled up at him, tired and refreshed and helpless all at once.

“You were right all along, Leorio. I don’t know who I’ve become, and that is not something I can blame the Ryoudan for.”

“Kurapika…” By now, it was taking every effort the doctor had not to reach out to comfort the other, despite the hurt and anger he had felt at his appearance. He held back, though, knowing that something was still yet to come, and while not knowing what it was, understanding that it was to mark an important change. For better or worse, he knew he would have to endure.

“I know I have no right to ask anything of you – I shouldn’t even be here, under the circumstances- but I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust anyone. Except you. I’ve entrusted my life to you over and over again, but now I’d like to hand over my soul. Will you, Leorio… will you help me?”  
His heartbeat slowed, he could hear its reverberations inside of his head. Of all things, of all nightmarish possibility, this was not what he had prepared himself for. He could only stare, humbled and bewildered as the blond in front of him cried silently, unblinkingly, waiting for his answer. He took in the sight of him, Kurapika now in clean clothes, his bandaged hands, the reddening around his eyes instead of within them, wondering if it was real. Wondering if, just possibly, the other had decided to live for his own sake.  
He reached out, the Kurta’s breath catching as he did, but stopped.

“I… I don’t believe you.”

The blond’s eyes dulled at his words, sending a pain through both of their chests. At this, he did look away, trying to wipe away the moisture around his eyes with his bound hands and great difficulty. Leorio watched, surprisingly numb to it, and spoke before giving the other a chance.

“If I’ve wished for one thing, since I’ve known you, it’s been this. But I don’t believe you’d accept it so easily.”  
And Kurapika laughed, a sad, pitiable sound from his throat, incredulous and broken. It took the other off of his guard, just as much as the way he was looked at did. 

Understanding, and hurt all the same.

“Of course you don’t. I don’t either – not completely. That’s why I need you, Leorio. I am so close to being destroyed by this, this quest, this _thing_ , that I realize I’m no longer in control. I understand that I am not myself, and yet, I do not know what it means to be myself. But you do. You know me, you see in me what I cannot. I just want it to end, Leorio. I just want to be at peace.”

“Why,” the doctor began, finding himself in the dark space between angry and afraid, “does it sound to me like you’re speaking of dying?” Kurapika grew quiet for a moment, lost for words as he tried to figure that out for himself.

“Perhaps because it is, in a way. Perhaps because if I don’t do this, I will. Undoubtedly, if I continue on as I have been, I won’t make it another year.” From the look in his eyes, it was not a prospect he took lightly. That, his seriousness, was enough. “Will you help me, Leorio?”

Arms were wrapping around the Kurta before he could comprehend what was happening, his whole body stiffening for a moment before he relaxed into the hold. Leorio’s hand was in his hair, pressing his face into the other’s muscled chest, warm and safe. There was a shaking, and though neither of them could tell which one had started it, it had spread to both of them in no time.

“All I’ve been waiting for is for you to ask.”

And with great skepticism, and trust needing to be earned, the doctor untied the bonds around the other’s hands.

They stayed together, lying in bed and speaking deeper secrets between bouts of comfortable silence for hours, perhaps half a day.

Then, they got to work. There wasn’t much to do on their end, after speaking with Alluka. Kurapika had laid his intentions out as soon as the doctor had given him enough room to breathe, while not quite letting him go. Of all things, Leorio couldn’t think of anything better for them to do, anything better for Killua. Alluka had agreed, offering to make the arrangements for them. Neither of the men had any qualms, happy to work with whatever she thought would be best for her brother.

That left a final task before collecting the boy and running far, far away.

Finding Gon was not a problem; he always seemed to pop up not far from Killua. Talking to him, trying to make him see reason, was. Leorio was beyond his capacity for trying, as Kurapika could see, so the blond had urged that it would probably better if he approached the younger one. Though Kurapika’s presence had always been scarce in the other’s life, he seemed convinced that hearing it from another would be more effective than if Leorio were to try again. The doctor was happy to give it a shot, but didn’t bother hiding how wary he was. Gon was anything if not stubborn, and it would be a long time before Kurapika held his faith. Still, he’d let him try.

They were careful in their approach, the surprise that was Kurapika their ace in the hole.

More captivating than watching the gears in the younger one’s head turn as he was being addressed was the way the blond spoke, as if all of his internal strife had been cleared away to reveal a singular path. Leorio couldn’t help but to stare when the Kurta voiced words of regret, speaking aloud realization that he hadn’t even dared dream of. He watched, as the other suffered quietly in the acknowledgement of what had been done, and as the teen sitting in between them processed his words before agreeing. Everything, finally, seemed to be falling into place.

Leorio would have been suspicious if not for the overwhelming, titillating joy that came with walking away, the blond at his side.

They prepared to leave that night. Leorio took great pains to pack enough for the both of them in a small carry-on case- he’d snuck extra gauze and other supplies in while the Kurta had been busy making tea. In turn, Kurapika had spent what remained of the afternoon and most of the evening washing the blood stains off of his tabard, determined to wear it the next day. The doctor was unsure which sight he preferred: the image of his friend from their days in the Exam or the young man currently wandering around his living room in borrow sweatpants. Both were appealing in their own way.

Even with the additional bandages, they’d packed light, knowing that most things could be acquired when they arrived at their destination. According to Alluka, they were to take a night train across the continent, heading east. It made sense, of all directions to choose: to the north was Killua’s home country, to the west memories of Yorkshin, and to the south whispers of the NGL that was. East seemed safest, a journey to the seaside, with new adventures in store. They’d never given the ocean much thought, besides crossing it with necessary burden on other trials. This time, perhaps, they could find some time to let the waves and sand bring them peace.

There was a little house there, a safe house, abandoned out of a lack of necessity but in perfect condition. The director had used it as a sanctuary back in her days as a student, struggling to memorize the innumerable adaptations that could be made to a body with the correct application of Nen. It had been her solace of self discipline and discovery, and she was more than happy to pass along its good will to the others. Particularly, to her colleague and his friends.

The thought was idyllic enough to surpass all of Leorio’s fanciful daydreams, and it was only a few days journey away.

What really pulled at his heart, what really showed him that something was changing came when the doors to the hospital opened up. He’d been watching the former assassin closely for reaction, giddy at the surprise that lay in wait, but his expectations did not do it justice. He’d thought that the two would exchange heartfelt words, perhaps even a small moment in the form of contact. It stopped his breath when Killua looked up, all worry and anxiety fading into the background as the figure in front of him became clear, more than just an image. It was the way he ran to him, captured the blond in his embrace, that Leorio began to understand the extent to which- even after his departure- Killua had been afraid. It had felt nothing other than right to take them both into his arms, laughing with pure joy at the sight of them, appreciating what a gift he’d been given. In that moment, seeing how the two cared and were cared for in return, he couldn’t have been prouder.

Though positive in trajectory, the days had been nothing short of exhausting for all three of them. They were boneless by the time they arrived in their compartment on the train, each of them ready for some well-deserved sleep but not wanting to succumb before having their fill of one another. Killua was determined to hear everything Kurapika had to offer about his reunion with the doctor, a story which was censored somewhat and told with shocking embarrassment, though the eldest of the three couldn’t blame him. The blond’s self-harm was not something he was keen on revisiting, making him thankful for the appropriate edits despite knowing that Killua had filled in the blanks for himself.   
Observing the Kurta’s storytelling was mystifying, especially with the pronounced shyness that came with it. He’d never seen Kurapika as self-conscious as he did then, something he made a mental note of and stored in the back of his mind. Things, it seemed, were changing.

It wasn’t long before all three began to drift into a peaceful slumber, the sounds of the steam engines and swirling colors of the outside passing by lulling them gently on their way. Kurapika was the first out, leaning gently onto Killua (who was determined to stay by the other’s side- lest he suddenly run off after trouble yet again). Leorio followed quickly thereafter, at ease with the presence of the others. Killua, however, tried his best to stay awake, basking in the company of the closest thing he considered family before letting his eyelids droop.

He was the second to notice, and too late even at that.

“This isn’t the station,” Leorio had spoken, confused by the sudden slowing and then stop of the train. The lights flickered, dark on the inside suddenly matching the outside night before the auxiliary power kicked in, painting the compartment in red. Killua blinked slowly, lifting his wrist to rub the sleep from his eyes as the meaning of the other’s words sunk in. It all happened before his hand could reach his face.

He felt the body pulled out from beneath him and the hit of the cold air before the sound had even registered. When it did, it landed with a painful blow, nearly rupturing his right eardrum in the process. There was a nearly instantaneous smell of sulfur overtaking the air- from the fallen ash from the volcanic mountains in the background. When he inhaled, the shock enough to sustain the loss of a few seconds, he could taste malice on his tongue. It was this, the culmination of his senses, that served as explanation for the spectacle in front of him. The side of the train car had been completely blown out.

He was moving within the next heartbeat, realizing that the blond had been torn from his side with intent. His trajectory was straight forward, down the slope that had raised the train tracks and toward the looming range of mountains. Leorio wasn’t far behind; the younger one would have been impressed with his speed had things been different. The distance was cut short abruptly, what remained of the smoking locomotive still easily visible from where they were standing barely more than a kilometer away. Though he was prepared to jump directly into action, what he found upon stopping froze him in his place.  
The blond was being held captive, disturbingly immobile, at the tip of a paper fan.

Kalluto.

Choosing not to move was one of the more difficult things he’d been faced with- not yet in battle, not yet avoiding it. It was a decision made with an intimate knowledge of the face staring him down (or rather, an intimate knowledge about how the owner of said visage had been trained and raised). Kalluto had elected to stop, Killua knowing full well that if he’d wanted to there were a number of means he could have used to make an expedient escape. His friend was still alive: his radiative Nen that was enough to provide him with the benefit of doubt that if Kalluto had intended to kill it would have already been done. Rather, there were other motives at play, motives that needed to be attended to before the violence broke out. Motives that, perhaps, could be played to. Knowing this, he kept very, very still.

That, and if he moved, Kurapika would surely die.

He didn’t break eye contact with his brother as Leorio caught up, flaring his aura to signal a stop before the doctor took action himself. Leorio yelled the Kurta’s name, earning him a small movement which was suppressed by his captor. His eyes, then, had been open in shock rather than catatonia, to Killua’s relief. That was a small blessing, at least.

Kurapika, however, felt differently. Unconsciousness would have been preferable to the state he was in, or at least equally as useless. With the damage to his hands and the bindings wrapped around them it was impossible to summon his purposefully crafted chains, blood pooling from where he had tried. They were flickers of solidity at best, biting into his raw skin with the effort. If the chance came, one move would be all he had, a single blow with a single series of links from the place of least damage. Otherwise, his fate was in the other’s grasp.

He did not like those odds.

“Hello, Nii-san.”

Killua’s eyes narrowed at the sound of the other’s voice. It was slightly deeper than it had been when they were children, taking on the same almost inquisitive tone that his oldest brother’s did. He hadn’t really noticed the difference before, under those circumstances of extreme duress, not that he’d said much. His penchant seemed to be in watching, as he always had. Watching, as the truth was lain out in front of him, whether he liked the outcome or not.

_I should have saved you, too._

“I didn’t expect to see you here. Not after our last meeting. I thought you’d never leave Allu, after that.”

He was disturbed by the way his brother addressed his sister- the lack of honorifics and shortening of her name sounded like the perversion of a pet name as it rolled off his tongue. There was no intonation to it, no respect, no overt disrespect, just seeming curiosity. That was enough to terrify him.

“Kalluto,” he started slowly, ignoring the obvious attempt at rousing his wild rage. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but let Kurapika go.”

The younger boy raised an eyebrow at him mildly, as if he’d been told something blatantly uninformed. It was with almost childlikeness that he cocked his head to the side, the shorter layers of his hair that imitated the bob he once had drifting off to one side as he did. His hair had gotten longer; it was folded neatly into a comb in the back, giving the illusion of a shorter cut than he had, his two straight forelocks revealing its true length. He still wore flowery kimono, if Killua was not mistaken, resembling a furisode. How he’d changed with age, to look like the proper apprentice to a samurai lord. Or, to look like one’s lover.

“I can’t do that, Nii-san. Not yet. I came here for something – something important to someone important to me. I’m sure you can understand that, can’t you, Nii-san?”

He wondered if the other was trying to be cute with his coy speech and nonchalance that was uncharacteristic of him. It was his impatience that aided his ability to adapt quickly to situations, making him almost as talented at Killua in the art of killing. Patience must have been something that the Zoldycks could not teach him. He’d found others to do that for him.

“Whatever you’re looking for, you won’t find it here.” Leorio chimed in, his eyes darting from one pale skinned boy to the other, head searching frantically for a strategy. “Let him go.”

Kalluto didn’t even bother acknowledging the doctor’s presence, instead shifting his grip on the blond so that he was holding him with the same hand that threatened his life. His free hand darted out quickly, fingers brushing over the blond’s cheekbones. Though his talon-like nails touched skin, they did not leave so much as a mark.

“Really, you’re so very troublesome, hunting after the Troupe like that. You should see how angry he gets when we hear you’re in the same area as we are. It really isn’t fun, dealing with him when he’s angry.” Kalluto flicked his eyes back up to Killua, locking his gaze as if to signal that he was done speaking to the Kurta. “We aren’t allowed to kill him, if that’s what you’re worried about. That’s something special, just for Danchou. The others used to wonder why he was so concerned about the Chain Wielder, but now we’re beginning to see it. He’s like a shadow, always there when we least want our presence known.”

That piece of information, the order not to kill, was enough to have Killua testing his boundaries the moment his brother stopped for breath. He stepped forward, just to try to close the distance, but the moment he did the fan was pressing into the blond’s throat, an impossibly thin line of red ruining the untainted white of the paper.

“No, no, Nii-san. I really don’t want to kill him- he’d be so upset with me if I did- but I will hurt him if you try to stop me. Just for you, Nii-san, I’m willing to restrain myself. See how grown up I am, not to play with my prey?” The boy’s face went from entirely impassive to unhallowed in a second, eyes deepening and smile becoming more crooked as he continued. “They had to explain to me why he was so determined to come after us, since I wasn’t a part of it then. When I found out, I knew what I could do to impress him. Even after all these years, he still treats me like an outsider, like a child, even though we’re all family. So I thought I’d bring Feitan a present, to show him just how serious I am.”

And then Kalluto was moving, so quickly that Killua did not see until it had already been done, until red was streaming down Kurapika’s face and a sound utterly inhuman had filled the air. He stood, paralyzed like he had when he was twelve and staring down Illumi in the last stage of the Hunter’s exam, but with the wrong brother. Frozen, he listened to the last words he would hear from the other that night, prophesizing battles that he had only himself to blame for.

“Because I love you so much, Nii-san, I’ll only take one of his eyes.”

Leorio screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you like what you see, leave me a nice comment (but please don't ask about the ending. Thanks)
> 
> **Notes on Updates** : So, because I'm in a bit of a financial situation, I'm going to be taking a short break from Uncertainty to work on commissions (there will still be updates! Just less frequently.). **YES: COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN AGAIN.** If you have something you'd like to see done, feel free to shoot me an email or msg on one of my profiles (I do all kinds of writing work). If you're currently in my request queue and would like to see your story sooner, feel free to make it a commission job and I'll put you at the top of the list!   
>  Otherwise, I'd really appreciate it if any of you who have been reading could spread the word that I'm accepting commissions. If you have tumblr, a shout out would mean the world to me. I'm entirely willing to negotiate pricing and have even been known to draw in the margins for special projects :)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This is a notice of Indefinite Hiatus. Please read the following notes as to why this decision has been made, and what that will mean for the future of Uncertainty.**

**NOTICE OF INDEFINITE HIATUS  
Please read entire notice below.**

I am overwhelmingly pained to announce that I am putting Uncertainty on indefinite hiatus. This story has had so much work put into it; in fact the last chapters are only edits away from being acceptable for posting. Even so, I will not make them public.

The reason for this is simple: for this fandom, the time and effort simply isn't worth it.

The Hunter x Hunter fandom has done so much to disgust me that I am not willing to continue within it. With the exception of the HxH Big Bang, you will no longer see my work posted here. I cannot express to you all how happy it makes me to finally be letting this fandom go.

Yes, I am probably spoiled. I'm coming from the Yu Yu Hakusho fandom, which is 20 years old. Those of us who are still running with it have been doing so for a long time, and we really don't plan on giving up on it. The thing is, that I didn't start writing for the fandom until about five or six years ago and when I did I was met with overwhelming, unanimous support. My fanfiction idols, those who I'd read in secret while I grew up as a wee queer child looking for characters who loved more like I did, were the first to offer their support. Every review I received (and I'm not claiming to have been an overnight success or a success at all- the fandom has been fading since I joined it) was either entirely glowing or contained actual positive constructive criticism. Those who didn't like my pairings left me notes on how they enjoyed my tone or my characterization, those who thought I needed work told me how much they looked forward to watching me grow. My first idol left me words of encouragement after every insignificant goddamn drabble I ever wrote and to this day STILL does. Even way back when, before I put pen to paper, I did the same for all of them. Why? Because even if we love it differently, we all love the same thing.

And I have never been so disappointed in a fandom as I have in the HxH community.

As a fandom, you are harsh without reason and brutal to each other just for the sake of it. There is no respect for another artist/writer if their opinions or style differs from yours or your tastes, and that is shameful. Never have I come across a community less supportive of each other and more likely to tear each other apart at the drop of a hat.

I say this to you because as my readers, the majority of you have tried your best not to be this way. Those of you who comment on here are genuinely interested in things like plot and expression, but unfortunately that is not enough. Receiving a few kind words from you is not enough to make up for those who wait for that "Story Updated" moment, and what comes of it elsewhere.

Because as soon as I publicly announce that I believe Gon is not the sunshine child that everyone wants him to be (despite being able to pinpoint the literary movement Togashi is referencing in his character design, the techniques he employs which are SO INCREDIBLY COMMON in Japanese literature to emphasize the anti in anti-hero, having evidence from all of his previous serializations that this is a common theme in his work, or literally being able to point out how the wording of a manga screenshot that you claim represent's a character's feelings is mistranslated) I am made into a target. I am harassed on other blogs, in messages on my own, and in angry reviews as every new chapter goes up. This is merely one example of what triggers the hate, one among hundreds.

Meanwhile, these bigger blogs with a greater followings will write 90% porn, 0% correct characterization, and 10% imitation of plot. AND THAT'S ALRIGHT.

YOUR FANDOM SHOULD BE A SAFE PLACE FOR YOU TO EXPRESS YOURSELF. IT SHOULD NOT BE A PLACE WHERE PEOPLE ATTACK EACH OTHER FOR DIFFERING OPINIONS.

Because let's be honest, it doesn't matter to these people that I have a four year degree with the word Japan on it. It doesn't matter that I've actually spoken to Mari Kotani. It doesn't matter that I've written a thesis on Togashi and literary manga, read by some of the greatest members of the Japanese Literature (and Anime) academic community in the United States, and have been agreed with. None of the members of this fandom who are attacking writers like myself are willing to engage in an intellectual conversation on the subject, let alone just leaving everyone else be.

Oh, did I not mention that this is happening to others?

I'm really not asking for my opinions to be more popular. I'm not asking for other fans to familiarize themselves with referential materials for the sake of more accurate metas. What I am asking is for you as readers to check yourselves and to ask others to do the same if you see them shitting on someone else. I cannot emphasize this second bit enough.

So, it really does pain me to have to announce the hiatus of Uncertainty. I really wish that weren't the case. After the HxH Big Bang (for which I will NOT be touching Gon's character with a ten foot pole, thank you very much), I will be leaving the Hunter X Hunter Fandom until it gets its shit together, which probably will never happen. **For those of you who have been with me since the beginning of this epic, I would like to extend an invitation to reach out to me on my blog or personal email to discuss what my plans for this story were, and maybe even to see a finished product eventually.** I'm also happy to talk shop with anyone interested. For those who are looking for a more supportive fandom, I'd explore Togashi's previous work Yu Yu Hakusho. I will be continuing my work in that fandom (which is more active on FF . net) and highly recommend it. Thanks to those of you who have been supportive up until this point, and I hope you experience better than I have.


End file.
